


Beyond the Fade and into the Breach

by AussieTransfan2015



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Culture Shock, Dimension Travel, F/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Victim of circumstance, copping with change, life-threatening change, making a difference, modern to medieval
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieTransfan2015/pseuds/AussieTransfan2015
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern girl, dealing with the hurt and pain of her past, is wrenched from her home, family and sanity into a world of magic and dragons. Bound in her new existence and forced to learn, fight and run from the creatures of the Taint, the monstrosities of the Wilds and the trappings of Court life. From across Fereldan, into the Free Marches to Orlais and beyond, she shakes the world from the Fifth Blight, to the Mage Rebellion of Kirkwall to the rise of the new Inquisition. This was not the life she had wanted, but as strong as the lyrium coarsing through her, the mark flickering from her hand and her guardian angel watching her back. The world of Thedas will never forget the name:</p><p>Guinevere Locksley-Moore. Champion, Noble, Inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p>NOTE: I'm gonna alter a few things in this story. 1) Gwen will now be 21/22 instead of 18 cause that is almost cliche now. 2) By popular demand, as well as see how it could work out better, the paring is going to change too. Wait and see who it might be! 3) Jocelyn is trained in Sword and Shield</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

_Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. - Buddha_

* * *

 

It was all she could feel. All that her body knew. It hurt to move. It hurt to scream. It hurt to breath. Pricks and prods, cuts and slices. Hot as acid that burns and chills like ice; it carved and wore through her skin down to her bone.

Gwen couldn’t grasp what was happening to her. If this was a dream, then why wasn’t the pain waking her up? She could hear voices; chanting in some strange language she had never heard of before. But some were arguing too, something about whether a pattern would work or if they would succeed. Succeed in what? What their true meanings were she couldn’t say, but the worse continued.

Growing. It just kept growing, a pain so intense it forced all breath and strength from her battered and abused body. She stopped breathing as the pain ripped her apart. It was different than before; intensity unlike any, burning and freezing all at once. At its zenith, she had believed to be dead, or dying. Until...silence.

It deafened as it rolled through. The pain melted away like water over rocks, coating and webbing over her skin before it’s locked up, numb to the world around her. Did she actually die? Or did the chanters leave? No one spoke for the longest time. Did they just leave? She didn’t want to die. Just what was going on?!

“Over here! I found something!”

A voice. A new voice.

“What is it Feynron?”

More voices. Were they here to help her? It sounded like they didn’t know she was there to begin with. The pain flared again, though mute compared to the intensity she had just experienced.

“A woman? Here?”

The voices grew distant, softer and unclear. Were they leaving? No, they couldn’t! She didn’t want to be here anymore! She didn’t want the pain to start again! She didn’t want to be alone. But soon, the voices faded, falling silent. Her mind rolled, and collapsed on itself. Crashing down into the dark of her sub-conscious, and sleep cradled the shattered remains of her being. 

* * *

It was some time before Gwen awoke. Her body felt numb, drained and stiff. Her eyelids fought to stay closed but she denied their will and forced back the dark. It hurt, as the light does, but with it came colour and shapes.

She was...in a tent? How? She had fallen asleep in the garden, under the family tree. Nothing was making sense, none of it. But the brush of fabric caught her attention. Glancing up, as best as she could manage, she watched two others enter. A man, tall and bent from the height of the tent, wore a striking blue and silver armour. A griffon, a proud and loyal creature, emblazoned the front of the polished armour. The other was a woman, aged and wizened with experience and life. A small bowl in hand as she sat beside Gwen; with help, she managed to pour cool refreshing water down Gwen’s throat.

“Can she speak?” the armoured man pondered, turning to the elder beside him.

“Do not rush her, Duncan.” Her eyes watched as Gwen drank, tipping only slight so not to choke her. “What this woman has been through, it will take time to heal. Why are you so eager as to discover the intentions of a few Tevinter Magisters?”

“I merely wish to know if she might explain what happened, and perhaps inform us of her origins.” Gwen coughed as water tickled her lungs, her mind focusing on the man’s inquiry. Why would it have mattered? All around her seemed like a large renaissance festival or a live-action role play group.

“Perhaps, but she has been through too much. Such a young woman needs time to heal.” Young? Gwen was almost twenty-two, she was an adult. Removing the bowl, the woman then pulled out a small bottle. From it came a strange red liquid, watching her pour generous amounts on her arms and exposed flesh. Hissing, the fluid burned and aggravated whatever injury she had sustained, but after a few moments the fluid began to sooth, numbing the pain.

“W...W-where...am...I?” Gwen croaked, looking to the surprised elders.

“Ostegar. We found you North of Blackburn, a village in the Southern Hills. Please, is there anything you can remember?” the man, Duncan asked. He knelt low to hear her soft chopped voice.

“Duncan please,” the woman snapped, pointing to the tent entrance. “Leave her to rest. I will inform you when she is well enough to speak.” Duncan did not argue, nodding and excusing himself as he slipped out of sight. Heaving a sigh, the woman continued to pour and work the strange liquid into her arms, legs and body as she peeled back blankets. It was only now that Gwen saw the extent of the damage; strange aqua patterns spanned her arms, legs, front and no doubt her back too. On closer inspection, the patterns intricate and weaved across her flesh. They looked like veins, not so much like blood veins but perhaps like tree vines or mineral veins. There was something mystical, even beautiful about them. But how did they get there? Were they the cause of her pain? “Are you alright?” Looking up, Gwen found the woman gazing with gentle, concerned eyes. Her thin fingers reaching up to cup and brush aside the tears rolling down her cheeks. Gwen didn’t even realise she was crying, and why shouldn’t she? She was in some strange place, no doubt far from home, and had no idea what was going on.

A gut wrenching sob finally coughed from her throat, moving the woman to hold and hug her. Her tears rolled harder, her sobs and cries resounding in the tent. It called someone from outside into the tent, only to leave as fast as they had come when they realised she was wailing in sorrow.

“Let it all out, you don’t need to hold it in.” The woman’s words were comforting and encouraging, letting Gwen sob harder. But her throat caved before her tears stopped, and still too exhausted beyond the point of caring, she managed to cry herself to sleep and into a blissful abyss once again.

* * *

The pattern repeated each day.

Wynne, the elder who tended to her, would come in every morning to rub a healing poultice into her skin, warming and soothing her new tattoos and tried to make conversation. But Gwen refused to speak, as if her cries and sobs nights before had claimed it. But it was in that time she came to a horrifying realisation: this was by no means some festival or play. Before she could ask if all of this was a joke or part of an elaborate retelling, she watched in awe and shock as Wynne made magic around her. She barely uttered the strange arcane words that conjured warm lights and healing wisps to aid her recovery. Seeing was believing, but this was too much to believe.

Her next surprise came the night before, when she had been so spooked by Wynne’s display of magic, she needed to get away. Away from the hounding Duncan, who visited her tent every hour and asked questions she had no answers too. Away from the doting Wynne, who refused to even allow her to move. When she had the chance, and with some difficulty, Gwen managed to get to her feet and ran. She ignored the guards and soldiers shouting and voicing her escape, all she cared for was to get away.

But her fleeing plan didn’t go far as, once in a strange wood or forest, she was shocked numb to the grotesque and deformed sight of what she could only call a demon. Gnarled razor teeth strewn through its mouth, salivating with a disturbing and tainted blade, stalking her with a strange hunger in its dark eyes. It tried to attack her but, in a moment of pure fear and desperation to survive, something crackled through her skin and shot out at the beast, forcing him back and even confusing him. She only caught a flicker of something pearl and translucent around her before it disappeared. The beast tried again to strike her but instead a will to protect, something else sprung up from her hands. The blue force ripped the demon apart and left nothing but ash. More came, following the other’s death cries, chattering and hissing to one another like they were talking a strange tongue. In the end, one stormed the rest, the leader commanding his men, pointed to her with menacing and gleeful intent.

It was then that Duncan and others dressed in matching armour ran in, other soldiers flanking their charge. The battle was short, all the demons lying dead in their black bubbling blood. Gwen had frozen since the battle started, barely noticing Duncan pick her up and returned her to camp.

“Are you well?” as if her thoughts summoned the man to her, Duncan walked into her tent. Wynne had left that morning after leaving a meal and drink, promising to return later. Duncan, however, brought nothing with him and knelt beside her. “You gave us all a scare before, what were you thinking?”

It didn’t sound like he was chiding her, but simply wished to understand why she ran. And what could she say? That she was so scared and frustrated with everything she just wanted to run away. Forget it ever happened and maybe get back home. What could she say that would make him understand? And what she did to that...thing. Everyone asked her what she did but couldn’t accept that she had no idea herself. What had she done? Where did that power come from?

Duncan sighed, accepting she would not speak to him and instead turned to leave. But before he could reach the mouth of the tent, a soft gentle hand caught his elbow. Stopping, he turned back to find Gwen looking down, guilty like a child who had done wrong. Not speaking, he knelt again and waited for her to muster her words and speak. She took her time, trying to find a way to explain what she had done as simply as she could.

“I...just wanted to get away,” he listened, watching as she twitched and turned her head further away. Long burgundy hair cloaked her face, hiding her from his eyes. “All of this...everything...I can’t deal with it.”

“Why would you need to? This is life,” he pondered. From the moment he had found her, this woman seemed different. There was little they could get from the Magisters’ journals given they were written in Tevinter common. Something about the way she spoke, the way she moved and even the way she looked seemed alien to him.

“No it isn’t!” she snapped, looking back with tearful eyes, hard and angry at him for making his point. “Magic isn’t real! There is no war! No knights in armour or mages! No fucking demon spawn from hell trying to kill you! All of this should be in a fantasy story!! This isn’t MY life! None of it!” Duncan leaned forward, pulling the pained and sobbing girl to him. Unaffected by the tears pinging against his silver armour, he just tried to hold and comfort her. “I...just want to go home.”

“Then...it would seem to me your home is much farther than any of us realise,” solemn, he pulled back to see her tears, moving to wipe the offending drops from her bloodshot eyes. “But, there is always a place for those seeking harbour with the Grey Wardens. You owe us no debt for finding you and bringing you here, but consider this an offer to join us. We could help you as much as you could help us.”

“Help...how?” she asked, wiping her own tears when Duncan’s hand retreated.

“No one here, not even the Circle mages, have ever seen such power as you wield,” his retreating hand moved back, descending and grasping her hand. Pulling the long shirt away to reveal her aqua tattoos, they seemed to glow with a soft but strange light. “What we could decipher from the Magister manuscripts, you have lyrium imbued into your skin, an art lost even to Tevinter.” His fingers traced a line, watching her reaction as the line grew brighter in the finger’s wake, before becoming mute and returning to normal. “You can manipulate this lyrium unlike any mage, as if wielding magic without it being magic, or you even being a mage. But many will view you as a mage, the Grey Wardens can protect you in this respect.”

“Magic…” her memories of childhood wonder returned, marvelling at the possibility she could wield magic. Her mind however paused at his last comment. “But why would I need protecting? Isn’t magic a good thing?”

“Some think so,” Duncan sighed, moving to get comfortable. “But magic comes at a price for all mages, the threat of demonic possession and the constant temptation to use their Maker given gifts to command man instead of protecting and aiding man.” He watched as her confused expression turned shocked.

“Will...I become possessed?” she asked, fear clinging to her words.

“That I cannot say. But when you dream, do voices approach you? offering you tempting bargains or contracts? asking for your help to show them a mortal world?” his question reminded her of one such dream. She recalled standing in a church or chapel; shadows and figures moved outside and against the stained glass, all of them either whispering or shouting for her attention, asking for help or offering gifts and offers in exchange for freedom, but a light broke through and banished the shadows, leaving her to awaken.

“No...Not really anyway,” she wouldn’t lie, since he had a better understanding of this than she did. “I mean sometimes I hear whispers, other times their shouts, but they’re always driven away by something...or someone...or a lot of someones. I can never tell.”

“Interesting…” his musings trailed off, leaving Gwen in silence. What was he thinking? Was this a good thing or not? “Perhaps...I believe it would be beneficial if you received a little tutelage from the mages here. Perhaps even the Tranquil could help you.”

“You...really think I could? Learn magic I mean.” The idea seemed too sweet to be real but the look on the man’s face offered her an answer.

“I will be gone from camp for the next few weeks, and I would feel calm knowing you were in capable hands, and able to find some control in your new abilities. I cannot say how but I believe your presence here will help us immensely.” Nodding, he moved to the tent entrance, bumping into Wynne. Excusing himself, he allowed the elder to step in and tend to her patient.

“Duncan seemed pleased. Are you feeling better, my dear?” Wynne seemed pleased she had eaten, offering her a skin of water. Smiling, Gwen took the skin and drank, thanking her host.

“A little...but I’m a little unsure on a few things, could… might you help me?” Gwen asked, watching to see her reaction. Pleased with her motherly smile, Wynne placed her poultice down and gave Gwen her full attention.

“What’s on your mind?” smiling, the pair started a long and winded conversation about this strange place.

Gwen learnt she was in a land called Fereldan, in the realm of Thedas – no doubt meaning that was the name of the Country. They were only a part of a larger land mass and often frowned upon by the other continents. But Fereldans were a prideful and honourable people, known for the cold and strong bred Mabari. She also learnt magic isn’t as great as she knew; rife with dangers from demons and one’s own vanity and pride, she even found it horrible that many mages were made tranquil - all magic and emotions severed from the Fade - because of this threat. The Fade was the hardest to wrap her head around. An entire world were dreamers and mages could communicate with spirits and be tempted by demons. It sounded like someone stepping into a netherrealm of a nightmare every time they fell asleep.

But not once did she stop Wynne from explaining this new world; she took in everything she had said and made sure she remembered it. It was nice to hear that elves were real here and that dwarves wasn’t just a derogatory word.

“Now my dear, I have a question for you,” Gwen stopped mid-bite to Wynne’s question. Swallowing the portion of meat in her mouth, she nodded. “As I was tending to you when Duncan first brought you here, I noticed rather deep scars. Peculiar scars on different parts of your body, focused more on your wrists and ankles. Were you attacked by the Tevinter Magisters, they didn’t look recent.” Gwen froze. Wynne saw them?! Thinking about the scars brought up memories she refused to revisit. Shaking her head, she turned away from Wynne.

“No...The men who held me didn’t make them...and I don’t want to talk about it,” she hoped Wynne wouldn’t push the issue, hoping she would leave it be. And thankfully, she did.

She moved on to another, yet sensitive subject; that of religion. She went on to retell the lore of the Andrastian faith, where the Maker turned from the world after the first Blight, enchanted by his bride Andraste and how everything led up to now.

“Then...why worship him?” Wynne paused at the question, lost for an answer. “I mean, if the Maker turned from the world, he’s not exactly caring for his own creations then. So why worship him?”

“To repent for our sins. For it was the sins of man that caused the Blights, and continues to do so until he hears our prayers and pleas. When that day comes, all will be healed and absolved.” Wynne could see something in Gwen as she gave her answer. Something akin to one hearing the truth and not liking what they heard.

“No offence Wynne, but that sounds like a load of bull,” perplexed by her words, she listened to Gwen’s words. “If he was so great to begin with, he shouldn’t have turned away. If the Maker really loved you all, then the Blights would never happen. And it wasn’t the world’s fault, just some greedy mages who crossed the line. Why should the world suffer for their mistakes? Doesn’t sound like someone I’d want to follow.”

“Mind yourself, Guinevere,” Wynne’s voice grew stern, and a little concerned. Gwen couldn’t help but flinch, feeling the mother’s quip her stern tone brought. “Such words would mean blasphemy to many.”

“I don’t care,” that certainly wasn’t the answer she was expecting, nor the hard look Gwen suddenly produced. “Religion is the reason everyone hates everyone and would go to war at the drop of a hat. It’s all well and good until someone tries to tell you you’re wrong because you don’t align with their beliefs. I mean look at the elves! You said so yourself they lost everything because they refused to take your faith. Your Maker abandoned you instead of doing what he was supposed to; protect and guide you. And this Andraste was supposed to turn him back, lot of good she did. Honestly, Religion is a waste of time when all it does is make everyone’s lives miserable. You’d get a better response talking to a wall than some absentee god.”

“This is obviously a strong subject to you,” Wynne noticed the heated glow from her tattoos, slowing dimming as her mind focused elsewhere. “What happened to make you lose such faith?”

“Can’t lose it if I never had it...and it’s personal.” The stifling silence that came after Gwen’s choke, looking to Wynne only to find her expecting more of an answer. “I’ve never been one to believe in something that’s supposed to be merciful and kind, when there’s such pain and agony still in the world.” She refused to speak on it further, leaving Wynne concerned and wondering. But respecting the sensitivity of the situation, she left the matter be and moved on to another pressing matter.

Teaching Gwen to control her strange powers.

  


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_Not all those who wander are lost – J.R.R. Tolkien_  
_The first rule of an expedition is that everyone should stick together – Tahir Shah_

* * *

 

It was strange being around the Tranquil. Sad also once Gwen discovered how they were once mages but due to the fear others had of them their ties with the Fade were severed, taking their magic along with their dreams and emotions. They were, however, rather engaging as they explained what Lyrium was, how it was used as well as how she might be able to use it.

The next few weeks were devoted to these practises while other mages, and Wynne, oversaw the training. At first they thought the tattoos would enabled her to use magic, something that seemed to be a cause of concern for the other mages and soldiers, but the Tranquil were adamant she was no mage. Granted, some of her abilities mirrored that of a Knight-Enchanter, a battle mage of sorts and a discipline found more so in Orlais, given its more elven heritage. Much to the clerics and Chantry sisters delight, she couldn’t do any spells and but their concern came when she could only manipulate Lyrium. She couldn’t conjure the elements or utilise any form of magic but she could produce solid barriers and enchant items. To a point, she even managed to float by encasing herself in Lyrium energy.

One particular ability she intended to use all the time was a phase shift. She could become invisible on will and move around and through objects without anyone knowing. Especially Wynne when she believed she should rest.

On one such bout, Gwen shifted out of her phase while Wynne walked by. She wanted to force her to drink some horrible potion to help build her lyrium stores up, but it only made her sick. So instead, she took to looking around the army camp. Duncan had promised to be back from his mission in a few days from his last letter; that was three days ago. She had been anticipating his return, wanting to talk to him about her choice.

Becoming a Grey Warden sounded like a good idea. Being able to learn how to better control her powers as well as travelling this new world, maybe even find her own way home.

As she walked the camp, she watched as some elves ran about delivering messages or parcels, soldiers studying the remains of the enemy and knights tending to their weapons and their faith. Gwen made great efforts to steer clear of the Sisters and the Church’s little chapel near the blacksmith. Refusing to be dragged into more church propaganda.

Sitting off one of the ruined walls, she was too focused watching life walk by while someone new walked by. He had stepped out of the largest tent in the camp, gleaming in golden armour, matching blonde hair pulled back by a braid row and top knot. She hadn’t moved or made a sound and yet this man turned to her. She had seen him around, speaking with many soldiers and a few times with Duncan. But who he was never seemed to be revealed from her observations.

“Ho, Good Morrow good woman,” he smiled, approaching her place on the wall. “Are you the young woman Duncan and the other wardens saved from those Tevinter Magisters?”

“You got it. My name’s Guinevere, Gwen for short. I’m sorry I don’t know your name.” Jumping from the wall, she stood before the man and two other knights beside him. She could see from their glares and stiff posture that she should know who this man is.

“You are speaking with King Cailan Theirin, Ruler of Fereldan. Show some respect.” One of his knights stepped in only for Cailan to silence him. Turning back to Gwen, he was surprised to see her bowing. Not curtsying like any woman or noblewoman he had met but bowed; one arm crossed over her waist while the other was bent behind her back while the top half of her body bowed at the waist.

“Sorry if that was wrong, I haven’t met a king before...there aren’t many Kings where I’m from,” she smiled, rising from the impromptu bow. Her smile was echoed by the king, offering his arm as an invitation to join him. Feeling the exhilarating rush of actually walking with a real king, Gwen agreed and took his arm.

For the next hour, they walked the camp. Talking and laughing as they did. Gwen kept her origins a secret from the over-eager king. He had asked where she was from but her only answer came with that it was a land far away and she still had no idea how the Magisters brought her here. He seemed to take the answer and left the matter be; obviously her outward appearance was enough to tell him that she was indeed from another country.

But soon a messenger ran up to the king, informing him that Duncan and the few Grey Wardens how when with him. Seemingly pleased with the answer, Cailan practically dragged her straight through the camp, over the bridge and past the large tower marking the ruins. Heading up from the open road was indeed Duncan and his small team as well as three others. Recruits maybe? Duncan did say he was looking for others to join the Grey Wardens. All three were easy to pick out; one was a human woman, in her twenties, long brown hair left loose over her light steel armour: worn and scarred from a recent battle with a worn emblem emblazoned on the breast-piece, the same emblem matched her shield. Beside her stood a large hound, it was almost as tall as a Great Dane yet looked like a Boxer or a Staffordshire terrier. Another was a slender man, pointed ears springing from his head making him an elf. Quaffed in robes, elegant and ancient compared to those she had seen the Mages and Tranquil wearing. Grasped in his hands, a long blackened tree branch seemed unimposing as the other weapons she had seen wielded by soldiers and even mages, but something she could see whispering just around the tip made her thing otherwise. The last was a short, stocky man – a dwarf she would guess – in dark brilliant armour. Perhaps this dwarf was of some standing if he had such armour. What was a little more unsettling was the sharpened and deadly looking war axe on his back.

“Ho there Duncan!” The king called, greeting the senior warden.

“King Cailan,” Duncan seemed surprised by the King’s arrival, more so when he spotted Gwen on his arm. “I didn’t expect a…”

“A royal welcome? I was beginning to think you’d miss all the fun.” Finally releasing her arm, the King smiled and spoke with the wardens and the recruits. Listening in, but not engaging the conversation, she discovered each of the recruit’s names. Jocelyn Cousland; a noblewoman from Highever. Cameron Mahariel; a Dalish mage stricken with the Blight. Baldor Aeducan; a banished Prince. Each had their own uniqueness to them, but each shared the same look of loss, confusion, anger and helplessness. All things Gwen was versed in.

Returning to the conversation, she only caught the King’s farewell before he turned to her.

“I enjoyed our walk, my dear. Forgive me but I must return to the campaign or else I will hear no end of it from Loghain,” smiling, she offered the King another bow, much like before.

“No need to apologise, you’re a busy man and the Darkspawn won’t conquer themselves, now will they?” Pleased with her answer and her coy gesture, the King headed back over the bridge.

“This is your king? Seems too smooth for my tastes,” Baldor grumbled, his voice deep and like stone crumbling in hand.

“It’s no wonder many think the Queen rules. He hardly takes this seriously,” Jocelyn added, her own voice lower than a usual woman’s but still held the smooth silken drawl all noblewomen had.

“And I had come to believe all _Shemlens_ were perplexing. This king is perplexing still, it dumbfounds me how the people were stricken as we are,” Cameron looked on, holding his staff more like a cane or crutch.

“Hey!” their attention drew to Gwen, annoyed by their harsh comments. “He might be a little laid back for this, but the King holds a passion that keeps his troops true. Keeps their hopes true. Without that I bet half the soldiers would turn tail from the demons they face now. Don’t like it, then get lost.” All three were stunned to silence by her. What had she done to call such silence? Was it so unnatural and so foreign for someone to stand up for another?

“So, this is the lass you were talking about, Duncan.” Baldor approach, only reaching Gwen’s waist, as he inspected her exposed flesh. “Never thought I’d see a human with lyrium in their skin, not without going mad and dying of course.”

“Gee thanks for your confidence. It might be a thing from my home, but we usually ask permission before scrutinising someone,” she glared down at the man, watching as he continued to evaluated and examine her markings. A bellyful, belching laugh roared from the dwarf, slapping her lower back.

“And she’s got spunk! Don’t see that in women these days! As rare as sapphires.” His charming toothy smile almost made her forget she didn’t like him, though the ache from his slap reminded her. At Duncan’s beckoning, the group headed back to camp where, upon explaining, he believed the King had not seen the true threat of the Darkspawn and how imperative it was that they complete the joining before the battle began.

Once back in the main encampment, Gwen didn’t last long before Wynne excused her from the group, pulling her back to force her potion into the healing woman. Gwen obeyed as much as she wanted, still gagging and hacking the potion while Wynne shook her head. Once she was allowed to leave, Gwen stumbled out of her tent and into Cameron.

“Oh Cameron, sorry I didn’t mean to bump you,” Gwen cocked an eyebrow at the elf’s sudden freeze. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…no _shemlen_ has ever apologised to me, for anything,” the name he had given her was one she hadn’t heard before but it must’ve been something from his language.

“Well that’s because I’m not like others. Honestly what people have done to yours is appalling and atrocious,” she walked ahead of him, watching as other elves ran about the camp at the whim of others. “We don’t have anyone as…amazing and fantastical as your people back home. Nothing except legends and tales.” Cameron approached her, seeing the awe and wonder in her eyes, seeing the truth she was speaking. “Elves and all Elvish are the things of fantasy and everything spun in tales. To be here, so far away from home, it’s one of the very few things that make being here bearable.”

“You really are a strange _Shemlen_ ,” turning to his admission, she could only smile and walk ahead of him. His comment wasn’t harsh or cruel, just stating the obvious so it ran over her like water before being forgotten. “We had best get to Duncan and the Wardens, the Joining will start soon.”

“You go on ahead, I’m…well I still don’t know if I’m going to be a Warden,” She didn’t give Cameron a chance to add, walking away and back into the camp.

Sure, the pros of becoming a Warden to the very least survive this world, but with all the secrecy surrounding their recruitment and joining. Her nerves were rattled with indecision, whether to just take that step or play on caution and stay with Wynne and the Tranquil.

“Guinevere.” Looking up, turning back the way she had walked, she was surprised to find Duncan. She had a feeling Cameron had mentioned her hesitance, now here they were.

“I know what you’re going to ask…and I don’t know,” sighing, Gwen sat on an old tree stump. “All this cloak and dagger surrounding the Grey Wardens…makes me scared.”

“I cannot promise there won’t be pain or torture, we as Grey Wardens give up much to protect all. In Sacrifice, Victory.” Looking to the man, she could see his passion for his order, as well as showing the truth in his words.

“Okay.” Standing, she looked to the man with a deep breath, “Let’s go before I change my mind again.” A slight chuckle passed the senior warden’s throat, showing her the way back to the bonfire. Seven others were waiting for them; she recognised Jocelyn, Cameron and Baldor but the others she didn’t know.

Gwen noticed one as another warden – Alistair if she remembered correctly – and the other two she had seen around camp but never spoke to them or caught their names. Duncan made sure all knew each other’s names before moving on to the tasks at hand.

“Then let the Joining aid your decision, for now is the time to act,” with that, his hand left and turned to the others, awaiting his word. “Now that’s you’re all here, we can begin. You six will being heading out into the Kocari Wilds to perform two tasks: the first is to obtain six vials of Darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

“That’s suicide,” Daveth snapped, reeling from the news.

“The Darkspawn will slaughter us all, and you expect us to kill them?” Ser Jory, a knight, snapped. Gwen took one look at them, turning to Baldor and Jocelyn.

“Ten gold says they die out there,” her tone was deadpan and disinterested, but the reaction she received was intended.

“By the stone you’re something! Count me in!” he cackled, handing over a small bag.

“Hardly seems fair,” Jocelyn caught their attentions, wondering why she seemed so disinterested. But a wiry smirk crossed her lips, offering a larger bag. “Bet big or go home.” Offering an additional twenty gold to the pot, Duncan silenced them with a look.

“It is necessary for the Joining, you are all required to take up this task,” Duncan tried to reassure those who seemed unnerved by the task, yet only finding Daveth and Ser Jory concerned. He knew Gwen had faced the danger once and Baldor, being a Child of Stone, dealt with Darkspawn every day of his life. Jocelyn had yet to face this monstrosity yet the memory of her home still haunted. Cameron was already sick with the Blight, best to either fight now and die, or complete the task and live.

“Then what is the second task Duncan?” Cameron asked, seemingly taking this talk seriously.

“There was once a Grey Warden Archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts,” Duncan’s words carried to the others, silencing worries and ending pleasant talks. “It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them.” Turning to Alistair, the Junior Warden who was assigned to lead them, his focus grew hard. “Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

“So we march into the wilds to kill Darkspawn, take their blood and find some musty old scrolls. Sounds like a Deep Roads exhibition,” Baldor sighed. “Well at least there won’t be any giant spiders out here.” Turning to Gwen, he smirked as she froze and stared fearfully at the Dwarf. “Don’t like’em?”

“Petrified, even of small ones,” she admitted.

“Well…stick close if we have to go underground.” She took the advice to heart, hoping she would never have to see one.

The troop headed out soon after, Gwen didn’t exactly like the idea of using a sword and a staff was better suited to a mage…and she had an accident the last time she tried to use one. Daggers were the final choice until she spotted a small bow. A reminder of home flashed across her vision as she grabbed the fine bow. Feeling a little more confident now, fiddling with the dagger holsters and the bow strapped to her back, she paced behind with Jocelyn and Cameron while the warriors took point after Alistair.

“Um…have either of you seen Darkspawn?” breaking the silence, she looked to the older woman and the elf mage. Both offered a look different to the other; Jocelyn shrugged, indicating she had not seen a real one, while Cameron cast down low, meaning he had. It was horrifying to think they were going to face those monsters again, but at least this time it was as a group and not on their own. Gwen was at least thankful for that.

But as they came up on a clearing, all they found were dead bodies, blood and ransacked carts. The stench ripped through their noses, meaning the events that happened here happened a while ago.

“Fergus…” Gwen turned to Jocelyn. Why had she uttered that name? Was there someone here she knew? Or hoped wasn’t here?

“Over there!” Cameron called, running ahead. Following, the young elf revealed a soldier still alive, all be it injured. It amazed Gwen to watch magic weaved and wielded by a mage, watching as the green energy licked and plumed from the elf’s hands to knit and mend the split flesh and clean the spilt blood from the soldier.

“Calm yourself, ser knight,” Cameron cooed, helping him to his feet.

“What happened here? Are you alright?” Alistair asked, taking charge and kneeling with them. Looking at the man, he seemed to know the answer to his question already.

“Darkspawn…ambushed us. The others…were killed…or dragged away. Maker, I can still hear their screams.” The soldier was shaken, no denying that, but he seemed still capable.

“Get back to the camp, report what happened and make sure others are prepared,” Alistair and Baldor helped the soldier up and watched as he walked back towards camp, his body still aching from the attack despite Cameron’s healing.

“An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by Darkspawn!” Ser Jory choked, turning the others to him. His face had turned pale, he seemed sick or at the very least scared.

“Calm down Ser Jory. We’ll be fine if we’re careful,” Alistair assured, turning on to lead them forward. It was uncanny the way he moved, as if he knew where they needed to go and not once looked at a map or tracked the ground. The group stopped again as Ser Jory latched onto his arm, turning his attention back.

“Those soldiers were carful, and they were still overwhelmed. How many Darkspawn can the seven of use slay? A dozen? A hundred? There’s an entire _army_ in these forests!” Gwen had always believed that knights were some of the bravest men in medieval fantasy, they always seemed to sure and if a little foolhardy but Ser Jory painted a whole new picture.

“There are Darkspawn about, but we’re in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde.” Alistair again seemed so sure, so calm in the face of the knight’s fear.

“How do you know? I’m not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back,” Gwen rolled her eyes, walking on ahead and past the quarrel.

“Sounds to me that you are,” she sneered. “You wanted to be a Grey Warden, Duncan chose you and you accepted, time to put in the hard miles or is your word as good as dog shit?” the others seemed surprised by her harsh words, Ser Jory most of all. His indignity grew when Baldor chuckled again and followed after her, even Cameron joined her too with Jocelyn close behind. The four stood, awaiting the others to follow.

“I beg your parden, milady. I am a Knight of Redcliffe,” Ser Jory had often seen a drawback in men and even women who insulted him yet this woman showed no sense of regret.

“That supposed to mean something to me?” she asked, looking to Alistair and Daveth. “You’re not in Redcliffe now and you’re trying to become a warden. How about you pick one and stick with it, or turn tail and go home.”

“Girly’s got a point, Jory,” Daveth added, moving toward the others.

“Course she does! Makes more sense than most surfacers,” Baldor punched the thief’s arms, showing his agreement but failed to care for the pain the move had.

“We’re all here for one thing; to stop the Darkspawn. If you’re not, than you are only weighting the rest of us down,” Jocelyn added, taking her side with Gwen.

“We must all work as a team, your fear and hesitance will put us all in danger,” with Cameron’s word, the Knight could feel the entirety of the group against him, the peer pressure pushing him to follow. Gwen could feel the cold stare from the man but ignored it. She knew she was right to say something, talk them out or kick them in the rear her Grandfather would say.

As they past yet another stone archway in these rotting ruins, she smiled at the sight of a rather lovely flower. One she had never seen before. White petals with red bleeding from the centre. She carefully plucked the flower, followed by three more beside it. Pressing two into an old book she had, the last she twined and wove into her hair, tucked behind her ear. A small good in a world of bad.

They hadn’t taken another step before Alistair froze. His raised arm halted their march as they waited for his word. Gwen’s eyes darted to every tree and shadow, remembering the last time she had encountered the beasts. She tried to steal her nerves, she tried to stay calm like the others but…this wasn’t normal. She never felt so scared while her mind reeled and ran through every possible outcome.

A grim chuckle. Deep, gravel, like a creepy record played backwards. With her nerves so high and flighty, Gwen screamed. Her panic and fear caused her markings to glow, catching the others by surprise. A blue aura broke from her flesh and enveloped them in a haze. But no harm came to them; in fact, the aura became a barrier surrounding them and repelled the Darkspawn archers. Their arrows bouncing off the ward and angering the Hurlocks. Genlocks took the charge while the others followed.

“For the Grey Wardens!!” Alistair’s cry pulled the others, the barrier losing its focus as Gwen calmed. Jocelyn came to her side and released a volley of arrows, taking out one of the Genlocks. Cameron, coming close as well, shooting fire and ice at the advancing Darkspawn. Though Alistair, Baldor, Jory and Daveth managed to keep most back and handle them well, Gwen felt something was off. Sudden movement behind her caught her eye, seeing it move to Jocelyn and Cameron.

In a blur of motion, Gwen’s mind caught up. Trading her daggers for her short bow; everything slowed down, she drew back her arrow and took a breath. She had to remember; shoulders straight, back locked, arms tight and grip the arrow, not the string. She didn’t aim, just picked a spot and released her breath. The arrow flew, the first imbedded itself into the first Genlock, right between the eyes. The second had only just realised what had happened to its partner with another arrow sank into his skull. Cameron and Jocelyn stared at the stunned girl, never realising she shook.

“I…I” she pulled away, dropping her bow and slumping to her knees. Cameron was at her side in an instant, trying to help calm her nerves.

“First kill eh?” looking up, she watched Baldor approach. “It’s never easy, but you did well.”

“I-I…” taking a few breaths, calming with Cameron’s firm strokes against her back. “I never thought I’d use archery for…this.”

“Regardless, you did well, but simply using a bow isn’t a rogue’s only skill,” eyes turned to Jocelyn as she approached, helping Gwen to her feet. “While we travel, I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

“Really?” Gwen was surprised. They barely knew each other and she was willing to help her? “Why? Won’t I just be a distraction or a nuisance to you?”

“Hardly,” moving with the others, she turned back to the still confused girl. “Better to train you and ensure survival, than have you hitting one of us.”

Figures. So much for making a fast friend. And something told Gwen that Jocelyn would be a hard teacher. Given the lateness of the day, Alistair suggested making camp to rest. Offering to start the first watch, Gwen set up her patch and settled to sleep, but as she thought sleep would come, she remained awake. The idea of the Darkspawn surrounding them pulled her worry and in turn, prevented her from sleeping. Sighing, she simply sat and rested on her patch, closing her eyes to calm her nerves.

The next time she opened her eyes, the world around her spun and whipped. Stumbled and scuffling, the world seemed to shift beneath her, warping into a new realm. Instead of blue skies and white clouds, the sky above her was a soft spring green, wisps of gold and silver filtering through black shadow trees.

“What…where?” Gwen felt strange. Her tattoos stopped aching, they stop tingling and itching and were just…warm.

“ _Who’s there?_ ” a voice, soft and a wisp of a whisper, like the ringing of crystal bell, caught her attention. Footfalls soft against the cool grass, weaving through the trees she came to a small shrine, or pergola. The strangeness grew stranger as she approached the strange pearl structure, the world seemed to drop, crumble into nothing while the pergola remained on its own floating island.

“Who are you?” Gwen asked, still shaken and shocked from this shift. What was this place? And where is it?

“ _I…I’m the last_ ” The last? The last of what? Moving close to the edge, she could see something in the structure. Sitting on a bed of pure white flowers, wrapped in a long white slip. A face like porcelain, hair like spun silk.

“The last?” Gwen asked, having to remind herself not to lean too far over the edge to see this woman.

“ _But I’ve never seen someone like you before_ ,” Looking up, the woman’s eyes sparkled like stars, alight with curiosity and intrigue. She stood from the bed, standing full height. “ _Are you a spirit? Or are you something else?”_

“I…I’m a human,” Gwen wanted to reach the strange island, but the threatening gap separating them was enough of a deterrent. “My name is Gwen.”

“ _Gwen…that’s a nice name…I wish I had one_ …” The spirits voice seemed sullen in its twinkle, like she was sad but trying not to be.

“No name?” Gwen wondered why she didn’t have a name. Sorrow wallowed in her, billowing up in sympathy for the little spirit. “Why not?”

“ _Names are given. No one has ever given me a name_ ,” it must’ve been a spirit thing if she couldn’t give herself a name. Maybe an unwritten rule in the fade. But did names really give them power? Gwen couldn’t dwell on it too long though, a hand was felt on her shoulder. Turning back, she saw Jocelyn looking down on her. The illusion shattered, the skies returned to blue and white, everything was clear and free of the green haze the Fade held.

“Come on Gwen, we’re moving on.” The rogue moved on, leaving Gwen to gather herself. It was strange to have been in the Fade, then to be pulled back by a touch. Had she been in a trance…or did she go body and soul? Thinking of the spirit, and the wish she uttered, something came to mind.

“Prue…Prue sounds like it would fit her.” Think no more on it, she collected her pack and followed. Missing the tears shed by a white shade.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

_Mankind must put an end to war, before war puts an end to Mankind. - John F. Kennedy  
_ _War does not determine who is right, just who is left. - Bertrand Russell_

* * *

 

In the two and a half hours that they had been walking and traversing the wilds from their camp, Jocelyn had managed to outdo many of Gwen’s stubborn strict teachers from school. Her wrists hurt from twisting and holding her daggers different ways and her feet hurt from running and moving as the older woman had instructed. She was, however, impressed with her archery skills, never needing to instruct or correct her.

Besides the hardship of her learnings though; to say the Wilds were rife with horrors would be an understatement.

Besides the Darkspawn they found, they faced Blight Wolves, wild animals and even demons. It was a shock for Jocelyn, who found a pouch of ashes and instructions to scatter them, after believing she had been doing a fallen soldier a favour instead found it to be releasing a demon. The shade was strong but the team proved too much for even he, collapsing and fading into thin air with only rags left behind. Of course, other horrors were found in the wilds. Two men dead trying to find one another, father and son, with only wills and little treasures to return to a woman in Redcliffe.

Her heart went out to the men as she secured the lockbox in her pack, but the team was moving on into the ruins Duncan mentioned. It could be seen from the hill they had just passed, with many more darkspawn waiting within.

Gwen tried to fight ahead with the others, staying close to Alistair and Baldor. Keeping to the Dwarf’s back, she managed to catch Darkspawn flanking while Baldor took the enemy head on.

“We make a good team lass!” The dwarf cackled, bringing his axe down hard on the last Hurlock. “But remember to keep your arms locked, or else these blighters will knock ya back.” Nodding, Gwen tried to keep up with the smaller body, surprised a dwarf could run that fast.

“Too bad I’m not taller,” the comment just slipped from her tongue, but turning to the dwarf brought relief as he understood the small joke, giving a hearty laugh.

“Forget taller, need more meat on ya before ya go lifting armoured dwarves!” The pair shared a good laugh, leaving Gwen questioning herself as they entered the ruins. Had she really just had a laugh after killing? Forget the fact they were darkspawn, just the fact that she had killed something that used to be alive, and had a good joke. Questioning her sanity was the least of her problems as the full ruin came into view.

The shambling structure seemed to hold well against the machinations of time, given it was still standing in a swamp. But no walls remained, only the columns that once held them. Splitting up, the group spanned out and searched. Gwen tried to stay close to the others, but something caught her eye.

It was to the far end of the ruins, overlooking a small hill. At first glance, it was like any pile of rocks, but the waning light caught a flash of gold, changing her thoughts. Walking over, she found the pile wasn’t rocks, but wood. Moving aside some of the crumbling columns, she found wood splinters, planks and metal bindings.

“Hey Alistair!” the warden perked up from another pile, moving over to her. “Would these treaties be locked in a chest?”

“Actually yes, magically sealed to protect them,” looking over her shoulder, he found the same chest in ruin.

“Well, they’re not here now,” Gwen looked up to the Warden, her eyes catching a flash of purple. Standing up with Alistair, the others soon picked on their new guest, Jocelyn and Baldor kept their weapons in hand while Cameron, Jory and Daveth moved to the others.

“Well, well. What have we here?” the woman’s glide was sooth and precise, like a cat prowling its new prey. Her golden eyes smouldered as she took in each member of their group. But when her eyes fell on Gwen, the young girl could feel her stare grow intense. For the first time, Gwen felt a little awkward. Normally she didn’t care if people stared at her for whatever their reasoning was. She did dress differently once and got plenty of stares, but that time she could only think of ‘go on, see if I care’. Now, she didn’t like the way this new woman looked at her. Thinking it was her new full body tattoos, she shied away, turned and tried to hide her face. The woman however changed her view, turning down her intensity and turned back to the group as a whole. “Are you vultures, I wonder? Scavengers poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?”

Gwen watched this woman. She walked past them, suspicious of them and yet seemed to know more than what she was letting on. She kept her distance, but the more the woman moved and the more she walked, the more Gwen began to think she wasn’t a threat. She couldn’t explain it but something in the back of her mind seemed to whisper and affirm her feelings, allowing her to calm and relax to the woman.

“Or an intruder? Come into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” her eyes again moved to each recruit and junior warden, her eyes gleaming again as she spied Gwen. This time noticing her relaxed and more open stance. “What say you, hm? Scavanger or Intruder?”

“Neither. We seek what was once held here. The Grey Wardens once resided here,” Cameron replied. He didn’t seem afraid of this woman as the other men might’ve, but his own trained senses knew she could still be a threat.

“Perhaps, but tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse,” she drawled, sliding to the dalish elf, only to move away from him when his staff was raised. “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘Why are they here?’ and now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

Gwen had no idea what to make of this woman. Wynne had told her about the Chasind, wildings who lived in these woods like they were their own. But she seemed too…cultured, too educated to be a Chasind woman.

“Don’t answer her,” Alistair glared, the group closing up as they watched the woman. Baldor gripped his still stained axe while Jocelyn fingered her arrow. Cameron held his staff tight and already seemed prepared with a spell in mind. “She looks chasind, and that means others may be nearby.” Ser Jory and Daveth seemed more concerned with the idea of wildings jumping them and not the Darkspawn or demons they had already encountered.

“You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” The woman asked, flowing her arms up to imitate an attacking foe, but made no move towards them.

“Yes. Swooping is bad,” Alistair mumbled, turning to Daveth and Jory commenting and claiming this woman was a ‘Witch of the Wilds’.

“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends,” the woman chuckled. Gwen was inclined to agree with her. “Have you no minds of your own?”

“She does have a point,” Cameron turned to the others. “If she were this ‘witch of the wilds’ as you claim, she would have done something to us rather than speak with us.”

“You can’t seriously trust her?” Jocelyn asked, looking to the elf. “Not only is she wild, but an apostate. There is no telling what she is capable of.” Jocelyn took her bow, loading an arrow just in case she would need it.

“Only two kinds of people you can trust; yourself and your enemy. Which are you?” Tightening his grip, Baldor watched with the others, seeing if this woman would make a move. Gwen could understand the hostility but really, she had done nothing to them so far, and hadn’t started anything now. Why not hear her out?

“You there,” Gwen looked up, noticing the woman had taken notice of her. Granted her golden, raven like eyes had been spying her already, only now did she actually address her. “Women do not frighten like little boys, or like Nobles whom believe the world revolves around them.” She shot a glance to Jocelyn, prompting the woman to raise her bow, arrow notched in the string. “Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“Fair enough. I’m Guinevere, but Gwen for short. A…pleasure to meet you?” Gwen was still a little rough to their greetings here. Sure back home you’d give your name but everyone in this world seemed to be exceedingly polite and proper, even the less educated seemed to hold a professional air to them.

“Now that is a proper civil greeting. Even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan,” she gave a slight bow, and quirked a smile as Gwen mimicked. “Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“Here no longer?” their attention turned back to Alistair, concern and slight anger. “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re some kind of…sneaky…witch-thief!” Really? Gwen stared at the same Grey Warden she had been fighting alongside the last hour, had really come up with such an insult? No one else said anything while turning back to Morrigan.

“How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?” Morrigan sneered, looking to each of the group for an answer.

“Easily as it were,” Jocelyn quipped, lowering her bow at Alistair’s insistence.

“Them treaties belong to the Wardens, so cough ‘em up witch,” Baldor snapped, clapping his axe as a threat.

“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.” Morrigan watched the little dwarf take a step forward, but what surprised him was Gwen placing a hand on his shoulder, lowering his axe.

“But, you do know who did then?” Gwen asked, believing it was better to ask politely rather than be abrasive as the others were. Catch more bees with honey than vinegar.

“’Twas my mother in fact,” Morrigan replied, waiting as if to gauge what she would do with that information.

“Might we see her? Please, the documents are important to the wardens,” Gwen asked, jerked back by Baldor and Cameron as if Morrigan would do something to her, or to stop her from doing something stupid.

“There is a sensible request. I like you,” she chuckled, watching how the others bristled.

“I’d be careful, first it’s ‘I like you’ but then zap! Frog time,” Alistair noted, concerned for the foreigner but only received a small chuckle from her, brushing it off. Daveth rambled about being put into a pot while Jory simple countered him. Both were ignored by the others it seemed, Gwen taking a stride to Morrigan’s lead while Baldor, Cameron and Jocelyn kept close.

“You sure we can trust her?” Jocelyn whispered, leaning in close to Gwen. “She’s an apostate. I’m sure the Circle Mages taught you what that means?”

“That they are mages living outside of the Chantry and do nothing but hurt people,” Gwen drawled, as if bored of her own words. “I hear they call elven mages that too. Hardly fair.”

“You make a point,” Cameron added, turning to Jocelyn. “The Chantry seems to pride itself on throwing the term onto those it cannot control.”

“Thank the ancestors Dwarves don’t have to put up with this,” Baldor grumbled, walking next to Gwen, watching Cameron and Jocelyn glare at each other. Gwen was still new to all the terms and prejudice but it seemed like the church was just as whacked as the church back home was. A sharp cringe snapped through, causing her to hug her sides. One hand moved to her exposed back at the nape of her neck. She only hoped what she so long kept hidden was covered by her new tattoos. Cameron noticed this, his eyes moving to the lines her fingers traced. Faintly, he could see discoloured skin, but it appeared older than the tattoos. Perhaps an old injury that scarred? And why was she concerned of them all of a sudden?

Traversing the wilds, nothing familiar from the swamp they had just travelled, coming over one last hill a small shack came into view. Taking it in for a moment, it was strange no forward scouts or other soldiers made any report on such a structure. The closer they got, however, the more Gwen’s tattoos itched and tingled.

“Are you…alright?” Surprised, Gwen turned to Cameron. Concern dotted his eyes, humbling her as she returned a smile.

“Yeah. It’s just…these stupid tattoos are itching…a lot,” emphasising the feeling by scratching her arms. The skin untouched around the markings appeared red and irritated, but the marking themselves remained unchanged save for a brighter glow. Little could be done, she knew that, it didn’t change the irritation and menace the feelings were having on her arms.

“Greetings Mother,” Morrigan’s voice broke her irritated thoughts, turning back to the hut to find an elderly woman waiting for them. As if expecting them. She was tall and thin, her age evident in her wrinkled skin and crone like features, but there was an elegance in her stance. Like there was more to her than she was letting on. Though her body was old, her eyes seemed to sparkle with youth…and a light all their own. When her eyes scanned the group, those luminous orbs landed on her. Those eyes seemed to bore in, taking in all details, especially the intricate swirls and twists of her markings. Was she studying her? Why? “I bring before you some Grey Wardens who…” Morrigan was silenced by the woman, standing before her as she approached.

“I see them girl,” the crone drawled, “Much as I expected.” Her eyes wandered away from Gwen, giving the girl a well needed refrain from her stare. But as the elder addressed them, Gwen couldn’t stop the irritated itch tickling her tattoos. She tried to pinch the skin instead of scratch, but the pitch seemed to shoot through her, as if traveling the length of her tattoos and making the otherwise localised pain cover her entire body. “And what of you, my dear?” the sudden voice caused Gwen to jump, her attention turning back to the old woman. Her cold eyes stared intent, and a small smile curled her cut lips. “Does your woman’s mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?” this woman awaited her answer while her eyes took in Gwen’s markings again, as if her very sight caressed and eased the itch burning her skin raw. It was a welcomed relief and allowed her to focus on the question. Did she believe as the others had? Despite the distraction of her itch, Gwen recalled the answers the others gave. Alistair brushed her words off as a joke, as he often joked on matter with little understanding. Daveth remained paranoid and fearful of this so called witch while Jory was quick to snap at him though shared his dread. Jocelyn remained firm, her hand gripping her blade in the chance she might need it, steeling herself for a fight. Cameron remained open and honest, perhaps being a mage also gave him the intuition to trust the woman, if only a little. Baldor, however, showed little interest at all, his attention turned to watching the wilds around them. So what did she believe?

“I honestly don’t know what to believe.”

“A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies,” Gwen sighed, had she answered correctly? Or was the woman wishing an honest answer rather than if it was right or wrong? “Be always aware…or is it oblivious? I can never remember.” But then the woman approached. Daveth and Jory shuffled back to keep a distance while Alistair, Baldor and Jocelyn held their weapons. Cameron remained where he was but his hand brushed his staff, ready to move if necessary. “So much about you is uncertain…and yet I believe.” The crone’s hands moved to Gwen’s arm, where the red was most evident. Her cold fingers traced the red skin, once again bringing a soothing calm to her itching skin. Gwen let out a calm sigh, the itch was almost gone now, just a tickling reminder now.

“So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair hummed, leaning to Jocelyn and Baldor, all of which replaced their weapons as the threat passed.

“Witch of the Wilds, eh?” the crone scoffed. “Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it!” Her rickety frame jerked and wobbled in a strange dance as she mocked the other wildling woman. “Oh, how she dances under the moon!” her cackled choked and cracked as she howled, bringing only annoyance from her daughter.

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother,” Morrigan hissed under her breath, shaking her head in embarrassment. Her words, however, brought the crone back to her sense, turning to a small chest by the door.

“True, they came for their treaties, yes?” From within the chest, the crone removed a collection of scrolls, each bearing a different seal – no doubt representing to which oath it held. “And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.” Though Alistair, upon seeing the scrolls, moved to take them from the crone, she instead handed them to Gwen. Surprised and unnerved by the crone’s constant attention on her, she took them regardless. Offering a small nod as a thank you, she seemed to delight the woman with her gesture.

“You…You protected them?” Alistair asked surprised, approaching Gwen to inspect the scrolls. They were as new as the day they were drawn up. Not one seemed to succumb to age or wear.

“And why not?” the Crone asked. “Take them to your Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realise.” A threat greater than they realise? Gwen had been regaled with tales and horrors surrounding the Blights, and they sounded like living nightmares to begin with. Was this woman saying this would be worse than before? Was that possible?

“What do you mean the threat is greater than they realise?” Gwen had to ask. Her question compelled itself from her mouth before she had realised she had asked.

“Either the threat is more or they realise less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realise nothing!” Again the crone cackled in her own deluded and demented mind. “Oh don’t mind me. You have what you came for.” Morrigan to her left shaking her head in embarrassment as Alistair began to usher them away.

“Time for you to go, then,” Morrigan flicked her hands, like shooing them away like pestering children before moving to the house behind them.

“Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests,” the crone snipped, pulling Morrigan back from her retreat.

“Oh very well,” Morrigan moaned, turning back to the group. “I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.” With a wave, she beckoned them to follow. Alistair led but Cameron stalled a moment as he watched Gwen approach the crone again. Be it a brave or foolish move, Gwen removed the flower from her hair and handed it to the woman. Confused, she accepted the flower.

“Thank you for returning the treaties,” Gwen offered her first smile to the crone, one which she seemed to cease and claim with her own.

“Such manners. Now off with you, before these unkind wilds claim you,” nodding, Gwen ran to Cameron before they both returned to the group. “Always in the last place you look…like stockings.” The crone’s final cackle carried over the quiet wood, as if echoed by the very trees before she entered her home.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

_I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life. – Corazon Aquino  
_ _Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. – Virginia Woolf_

* * *

 

Once close enough to the King’s camp, Morrigan slipped back into the trees and disappeared before anyone could thank her. Passing the gates as night fell, heading to the bonfire the group was stopped by another soldier.

“Wardens, while you were travelling the wilds, did you find any white flowers? With red centres?” he asked, his hands shook and his eyes darted to each of them. “My hounds might not survive the night without them, the Darkspawn Taint might take them before dawn.” Gwen remembered those flowers, the one she gave to Morrigan’s mother…and the others in her pack. Stepping forward, she offered the flower to the soldier.

“Are these what you’re looking for?” she asked, handing over the pressed flowers. “Sorry if they’re a little…squashed.”

“Oh my lady thank you!” he beamed, even moving in for a hug. “These will be perfect, please this way.” Guiding her away from the group, Jocelyn moved with her as the others returned to Duncan. The soldier, which she realised was the Kennel Master, approached the pen. Three hounds were ill, lying on the ground while another, sick as well be seemed stronger, stood over them. “Give me a moment and I’ll make this into an ointment.” The Kennel Master moved away from them, leaving them to watch the hounds. Gwen had never seen a dog this large, except maybe in photos. It was like a cross between a Staffordshire bull terrier, Bullmastiff and a Rottweiler the size of a St. Bernard. Once the Kennel Master returned, he tried to give the dogs the ointment but jumped back as the Mabari still standing growled, protecting his comrade. “My Lady, might I ask for assistance?” Jocelyn had thought he had asked for her help but watched surprised as Gwen moved in. She accepted the muzzle the Kennel Master offered but stood back and watched as she moved to the agitated hound.

“Shh~ it’s okay,” Gwen cooed, placing the muzzle down and offered her hands. The hound growled and stood wary of her. “See, I’m not going to hurt you~” Pulling out one last flower, holding it to the hound. “This will help you, but the Kennel Master needs to help your friends too.” Inching closer, letting the hound sniff the flower, it turned to her was a strange intelligent look. Taking a sniff of the flower, Gwen took the flower away and traded the ointment for it. Offering the ointment, the dog sniffed the concoction and somehow made the connection. Placid and calm now, Gwen stood and petted his head and ears, holding him still to work on the muzzle. The Mabari was strong, he wriggled under her grip but with a stiff tug, the Mabari stopped as Gwen finished securing the muzzle.

Moving aside, the Kennel Master moved to his dog to help them. Jocelyn watched as Gwen moved out of the pen, watching the soldier tend to his hounds.

“He’ll remember that,” Gwen turned to Jocelyn, confused by what she meant. She followed her gaze, coming onto a similar hound sitting with Duncan. Its keen eyes watching Jocelyn…like any hound would to his mistress. “Mabari are intelligent hounds, and have long memories. He will remember you helping him.”

“Wow,” Gwen turned back to the hound before leaving with Jocelyn. The muzzled Mabari watched her, panting with a happy smile as she left. Maybe Jocelyn was right. The dog did seem like it knew more than she gave it credit for.

“Courage? How much danger are we in?” Gwen turned to Daveth’s concerned voice. Duncan had welcomed the others back, retrieving the scrolls from Alistair. The circle mages had prepared the Darkspawn blood they collecting for their Joining, but something about needing courage for it billowed concern in her too.

“I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.” Gwen didn’t like the ominous drawl in his voice. Duncan’s warning brought new fear in her, causing her to move toward Jocelyn, Cameron and Baldor. Unlike the others, Gwen found herself drawn to the trio. Baldor was funny and cheeky, he made her feel like she could move mountains the way he leapt into battle, yet had that protective air; like no matter what he would be there. Jocelyn, though harsh and a little cold, showed her concern and care with her protective and authorities words and actions. She was hard to make you strong, and she steeled herself so you wouldn’t get hurt. She was also coy and sly, weaving her words to entice and trick as well as catch. And Cameron, his calm and warm presence made her feel safe. Even in the wilds while fighting wolves and Darkspawn, being near him took the edge off her fear.

“Are you saying this ritual…can kill us?” Jocelyn asked, her voice lost its authorities edge, lost it cold and ice for something Gwen could only think of was fear.

“As could any Darkspawn you might face in battle. You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to survive.” Duncan, his eyes cast forward, lead the group away from the watchful eyes of the camp guards. Farther they went into the camp until they reached a small ruined temple, overlooking the lower camp. The hard stone change from the soft dirt seemed to make this choice heavier than it was. Making this ritual more dire than it was.

Duncan left to fetch the prepared blood and something called a Joining Chalice from the mages, leaving the group to talk amongst themselves. Gwen tuned out most of the talks; Jory was complaining again about being a Knight of Redcliffe and finding all of this ridiculous while Daveth just egged him on. Alistair tried to calm the pair while Jocelyn made sharp quips to the quarrelling men. Baldor just watched in amusement, finding the bickering of humans amusing.

“Are you alright?” Gwen looked up, finding Cameron come and sit with her, his feet dangling off the edge of the ruin as she was. She didn’t answer, but welcomed his presence.

“A little nervous, I guess.” Gwen looked out over the camp and wondered, all the time she had spent here and yet she had no answer as to how she got here or how she was going to get home…if she could go home. “Cameron…are we going to die?” Cameron turned to her but she didn’t look back. She really didn’t want an answer, she wanted to live. But she couldn’t pull out now, she was never one to back away from responsibility, besides she would have the protection of the wardens to fall on if what they saw about mages was true.

“Perhaps, but there is no certainty,” Cameron answered, but something she hadn’t seen him do happened. His thin hand and arm came to rest on her shoulders. “But you are a strong shemlen, I believe you will live.”

“You too,” Cameron looked down, confused by her comment. “You’re too nice to die like this.”

Before Cameron could reply, Duncan returned to begin.

“At last we come to the Joining.” Walking past, Duncan stood before a small alter, placing the goblet upon it. His gaze turned reverend, his voice low and sombre, like uttering a prayer or eulogy. “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens dragon of Darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

“We’re…going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?” Ser Jory’s face turned white, fear cracked in his voice as he appeared to fall back, whether in surprise or shock was unknown, all Gwen could see was his cowardice finally coming through.

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. _This_ is the source of our power and our victory.” Duncan stood beside Alistair, his own face mirroring his senior Warden. He knew all along what the joining entailed, and ignored the indignant glare Jory was boring into him. Daveth had looked ready to be sick while Baldor stood firm. Jocelyn had paled for a moment but found new resolve, standing with Baldor. Cameron turned to see Gwen’s fear, see her hands shaking and her tattoos glow. In a moment of kindness, he slipped his hand into hers, catching her attention. It was a small squeeze and a strange gesture for a Dalish elf to offer a Human, but she smiled all the same and thanked his kindness.

“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the Darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon,” Alistair added, stepping forward as to say his part.

“Wait, those who survive?” Baldor asked, eyeing the chalice with deep suspicion.

“Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay,” Duncan answered, worsening the wits of the others. “We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first,” turning to Alistair, Duncan gave a small nod as the junior warden bowed his head.

“Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.” As he spoke, all with heads bowed, Jory turned to the chalice. His eyes alright with fright and fear, as he along with the others were about to drink a poisoned brew. All for the sake of living or dying to end the Blight. “And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.”

“Daveth, step forward.” Duncan handed the chalice over to the thief, holding it like glass as the first took a sip. It was slow at first, coughing on the thick black bile. Then Daveth cringed, doubling over as his scream ripped through his throat. Eyes white, no pupils or iris left in them as he choked and gagged. As if some force held his throat as he thrashed and spluttered.

“Maker’s Breath!” Jory shouted, watching as they others did as Daveth twitched one last time before lying dead. Gwen held onto Cameron tighter, his own grip holding her as Baldor and Jocelyn watched in shock.

“I am sorry, Daveth,” Duncan closed his eyes, showing the remorse and guilt a murder showed to a victim, watching as life left the tainted corpse. “Step forward Jory.”

“But…I have a wife. A Child! Had I known…” Jory drew his blade, stepping back from Duncan. Eyeing the chalice as if it were a weapon; for him it was.

“There is no turning back.” Duncan’s tone was dead, stern and hard on the retreating knight.

“No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!” Sward held to his heart, the truth of the knight comes through. But as Duncan drew his own blade, placing the chalice upon the alter again, Jocelyn moved to Gwen. Before she could see Duncan’s blade pierce Jory, Jocelyn hid her eyes but her ears could hear blade meeting flesh, blood gushing to a steady drip as Jory fell to the ground. She had killed Darkspawn, but the sight of one man killing another. That was different.

“I am sorry…but the Joining is not yet complete.” Duncan placed his dagger aside to reclaim the chalice, moving to Gwen.

Jocelyn stepped forward, blocking Duncan. Instead of moving around her, he offered the chalice. Without regard, Jocelyn took the chalice and gulped down her share.

“You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.” Duncan’s words were the last she heard before she followed the others. “From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden.” Jocelyn clutched her forehead, Gwen’s shout lost to her in the mist and haze of a beast’s roar. Her eyes white, like Daveth’s but she never gagged nor choked. Instead, Jocelyn collapsed. Out for a few minutes, Jocelyn opened her eyes again, normal and alive. Standing, she shifted to right herself, leaning on Alistair for support.

“Guinevere, step…” Duncan moved to Gwen again, only to find Baldor taking her place.

“Let her go last, let her live as long as possible.” Baldor said no more, taking the offered Chalice. Much like Jocelyn, the dwarf clutched his head and revealed his white eyes. Though his unconscious state lasted longer than Jocelyn, he too awoke and got to his feet. “That…felt like my brother Trian’s eighteenth birthday…only I didn’t wake up in a pile of bottles and three noble hunters…” his swaying comment had lost meaning to the others, but Duncan turned to the last two initiates.

“I will go,” Cameron let Gwen go, accepting the chalice. Gwen held her breath for the third time, praying and hoping Cameron would live as the others did. His eyes turned white as the others did, but his small cough caused her panic before he collapsed. As the seconds passed, Gwen felt tears rise in fear before Cameron opened his eyes. He survived, they all did…and now it was time for her test.

“Guinevere, step forward.” Gwen stood alone, she turned to the others. Seeing them with her, stand close by, she tried to calm her nerves. Hands shaking, she grasped the chalice and stared at the blood within.

“You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.” Swallowing to cover her dry throat, Gwen closed her eyes and prepared herself for the horrid taste awaiting her. Her reaction was instant; as the blood disappeared down her throat her body contracted and spasm. Duncan caught the chalice fallen from her hand, Baldor caught her before she could hit the ground. Her eyes were white just as the others were but her gagged and choked breaths indicated otherwise. Her body was hot to the touch, sweat rolling down her forehead as she shook from an unknown chill.

“Maker’s breath,” Jocelyn spotted another abnormality. Gwen’s once azure markings grew bright as they faded to an angry red. “What is going on?” Duncan was at a loss for words, this had never happened before. But Gwen was an abnormality, he had never thought the markings would be effected. Why were her tattoos reacting? And why were they turning red? Her body grew still, her markings now turned bright red and her breath stilled. Cameron held his breath, Jocelyn dared not move while Baldor growled. Why had she to be the one to perish? Compared to the others, she was no doubt the youngest and most inexperienced.

* * *

Gwen tried to move, but every inch inflamed her tattoos and her breathing snapped new ripples of pain through her. It hurt to move, it hurt to breath. Every action taken caused pain. Then the song came. It was haunting and repetitive, running over and over in her head. The more she heard, the more it stuck to her. She tried to drown it out, tried to focus on something else to forget but it pushed harder and harder.

_We are here_

_We have waited_

Then the voices; hundreds, maybe thousands at once speaking, whispering, screaming through her mind. They mixed with the song, enchanting and enhancing the haunting melody.

_We have slept_

_We are sundered_

She had to drown it out, the more she listened the weaker she became. Whatever was running through her was growing hot, burning to the point she believed she would blister and burst.

_We are crippled_

_We are polluted_

Stop! Please! Make it stop! Her mind screamed, she begged and no one seemed to listen.

“I can make it go away~” A new voice appeared, a new warmth brushed against her. Managing to open one eye, Gwen couldn’t scream. Before her was a bare woman, her flesh a soft violet wrapped in silk and gold. But atop of her head; two long curled horns, a dark aura whipping around the sharp appendages, a long barbed tail slinking and twisting on her raised behind. But it was her eyes; black pools surrounding gold orbs. “I could make all your pain disappear~ Command the taint to increase your strength and power~” Her claw-tipped fingers danced and traced over her markings, turning the sting to a singing relief.

_We endure_

_We wait_

“I could make you forget everything that has happened, even your past~” Her mind was weakening, the song grew stronger the longer the woman spoke, the whispers dying out to strength the shouts. “Make you forget your loneliness, your pain~” Her hands reached Gwen’s cheeks, cupping them with tender touches. “I will never leave you, you will never know abandonment or fear~ Only the blessings I shower on you~”

_We have found the dreams again_

_We will awaken_

“ _NO_!!”

A burst of white light erupted around her, the demoness pulled away as she recovered from the light’s force. Opening her black ink eyes, they widened at the sight before her. Her quarry now rendered still, as if in a dreamless slumber. Cradled and held as a child to a mother. A spirit she could tell by the pure white glow she exuded purged the ground around her, chasing off and cleansing the darkness.

“Ha, a spirit of Purity. Why would such a dying breed even be here?” the demoness cackled, her eyes planted on Gwen. “Begone with you. The girl is mine~”

“No! I won’t let you hurt her!” the white spirit snapped, her aura growing. “This human, she has shown me kindness. Given me what I have longed for. The purity of her heart…I won’t let you or anything else corrupt it!!” Pulling Gwen up, she held her more than a mother would hold her child. As if…she were holding a lover.

“Spirits like you are a riot!” the demoness jeered, calling her so called bluff. “You are no doubt the last of Purity for their world. Unite with this human and you become a demon, one I will gladly drive out of my dear Dreamer~”

“No…I will stay pure…because I have no desires anymore. She gave it to me…she gave me a name…” her eyes alight with tears, turning the demoness from a coy player to a vengeful, fearful wreak. The pure spirit leaned close, her forehead resting on Gwen as the realm dissolved into light. Panicked and fretting her demise, the demon fled as the song and the voices shrieked and died out.

“I’m her…Prue.”

* * *

Gwen suddenly lurched forward, a shriek stopping mid breath as she gagged. Leaning forward, she tried to regain her breath, as if a pressure was released from her throat. Watching as she cough and hacked for breath, the red staining her tattoos seemed to recede and return to their original bright blue.

“Gwen, are you okay?” Baldor rubbed her back while Jocelyn watched over. Cameron returned with a water skin, offering it to the ill girl. Gwen took it with thanks, washing out the vile taste in her mouth.

“I…think so…” she coughed, spitting out more bits of bile. “I…what happened?”

“You survived that’s what!” Baldor bellowed.

“But your…tattoos changed colour…and you took longer to come back,” Jocelyn turned to Alistair and Duncan. “Has this happened before?”

“Some gag as they drink, but I’ve never heard of someone throwing convulses like that,” Alistair answered, turning to Duncan with the same question. The Senior Warden just stared, unsure of his own answer.

“Perhaps the Lyrium is the cause of this,” Cameron suggestion, taking the answer from Duncan. “Lyrium is a rather mysterious and unpredictable element, perhaps it was affected by the taint.”

“There…was something else…” Gwen managed to say without coughing. “There was…a woman, with horns…she was trying to…”

“Sounds like a demon,” Jocelyn turned wary, the idea of a demon taking advantage of Gwen’s weakened state. Could she be possessed now?

“I…could hear a strange song too…and weird voices…but I can’t remember what it was about…or the whispers…but there was a bright light, it felt like someone was…holding me, pushing me back up.” Gwen tried to rack her brain for answers but it was as if the entire exchange was just a dream. “It’s like trying to remember a dream you’ve already forgotten.”

“Safe to say you repelled the demon then. Never heard of that happening either,” Alistair nodded, smiling at there being one silver lining to all this. Four had survived the joining, that was a good sign. To end the Joining, each were given a pendant with the remaining blood; a reminder of those who didn’t survive and of the commitment they now give. But Gwen didn’t feel right. Looking to the others, there seemed to be a change in them that she didn’t have. The Joining changed them, yet she remained unchanged.

Regardless of her feelings, Gwen affixed the necklace around her neck while the others were given Grey Warden armours. Hers looked much lighter than Jocelyn and Baldor’s since they were both classified as warriors; the thin strong steel and leather fitted perfect, hugging close and didn’t chaff. While the others headed to the King and his meeting, Gwen slipped to the Quartermaster in the hopes of bartering for a better set of weapons. Since her own were battered and damaged from their excursion into the wilds, no doubt given a poor set to begin with, she managed to convince the Quartermaster to pass a fair price on an ornate set of daggers and a bow in a matching set. The daggers were light, making her swipes and swings fast and strong, the bow was just as light with a tight, taut string. She managed to snag a pair of leather gloves too, slicing off the pinkie and ring fingers on both hands. Now she felt set to fight.

“Gwen,” looking up from testing her new bow, securing a quiver to her back, Jocelyn approached. She seemed to approve the new weapons, nodding and urging the young girl back toward the bonfire. Duncan could be seen discussing plans with the others, something the Alistair seemed to disagree with.

“What? I won’t be in the battle?” Alistair was surprised, perhaps shocked. Gwen wondered why, he along with the others were given a pivotal role in the battle to come. The only reason she was to remain was to bolster the mages. Something she would gladly trade to escape a battlefield.

“This is by the King’s personal request, Alistair,” Duncan explained. “If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.”

“So he needs four Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch, just in case?” Alistair argued. “And to send a woman, one who is still in-training, right into the battlefield?” Gwen shrunk from the group, even she was surprised by the arrangement.

“I agree with the pretty boy. We should be in the battle too,” Baldor growled, slapping the handle of his axe.

“That is not your choice,” Duncan replied, his tone even and calm. “If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there.”

“But…what about me?” Gwen stepped forward, all eyes turning on her. “Duncan I…wouldn’t I be better helping with the beacon, rather than fighting with the others? You said so yourself, I’m no Warden.”

“Gwen, I understand your concern but we must. The King has been informed of your…abilities, he wishes to see them for himself, and hopes they will aid our side in the battle,” approached by the man, he placed an armoured hand upon her shoulder. “Know that I protested greatly, but the King refused to change his mind.” Nodding, Gwen still didn’t want to fight in a large battle. Too many things could happen. “We must do whatever it takes to destroy the Darkspawn…exciting or no.” After another quip from Alistair, and giggles shared, Duncan sent off the small team while ushering Gwen to the Mages. Cameron, however, managed to convince Duncan to allow him to remain by Gwen. Duncan, despite protests from the others, agreed.

As the army mustered; Soldiers and warhounds to the front lines, archers and mages to the rear, sisters of the faith prayed and moved about the lines, spreading incense and singing to encourage and protect. Gwen remained close with the Mages, her own bow lined with an arrow while Templars and soldiers eyed them. Wynne, who stood close by, offered her a small smile. One she returned. And hoped it would be enough.

Rain pelted on armour and leather, echoed by the growing chorus of footfalls. A horde approached through the trees of the wilds, all different shapes but all with the same knarred mauls, sick black flesh and soulless grey eyes. Flanked were jackal like creatures, their shrieks echoing while massive ogres flanked. The enemy was most unnerving. Many soldiers tried to pull back, unseen in the hopes of fleeing. But comrades pushed them back, standing their ground. From the highest point, King Cailan and Duncan watched, and waited for the right moment to engage.

A flash of lighting streaked the sky, and the Darkspawn charged. A flurry of roars, teeth and blades glinted as the mass spread like a plague.

“ARCHERS!” Cailan’s command echoed across the field, the archers heeding over the pelting rain and thunder. Gwen followed, raising her own bow. On the signal, her arrow flew. Eyes locked, she watched as the single arrow in a mass of hundreds sailed the sky before imbedding itself in a creature. The small victory but at the King’s call, the Mabari were sent in. They showed their gristle and strength, but all too many were cut down by the Darkspawn.

“FOR FERELDAN!!”

Their army charged. Gwen was lost in a sea of soldiers, struggling to keep with Cameron but in the confusion, she found herself lost and away from the mage’s protection. Duncan’s words soon filtered through her mind; if she were ever separated from Wynne, Cameron or the mages, to come and find him. Working through the horde, cutting down genlocks and aiding other soldiers, she managed to find her way to the other side of the field. She tried to push out the screams, she tried to silence the wails, but the death and carnage around her was fuelling her own panic. To escape a blow from a charging Alpha, Gwen quickly phased, allowing the Alpha to pass through her.

A loud roar severed Gwen’s attention, turning back to the field. A large ogre charged the field…and straight for King Cailan and Duncan. Shock drover her forward, her phase broken as she raised her bow. Arrow notched, she drew breath as the arrow tickled her cheek. Target placed, she released the arrow and watched it fly. The ogre howled in pain, clutching its face as the arrow slicing through. Its roar turned Duncan, giving him the opportunity to slay it. Coming to the side of the King, a blazing light caught her attention.

“The signal!” she cried, hope and joy flooding her as blood flooded the ground. That would mean Loghain was coming with his men, this battle could be won.

“Gwen!” Duncan called, pulling her to his side. Standing with Duncan and the King, the horde paused but a moment as the tower flew alight.

“Where is Loghain?!” the King cried, pooling dread where hope one lay. The signal was lit and yet no army came, no aid or help. Duncan returned to the king, pressed and tired. Gwen could see they were waning; Duncan looked ragged and tired while Cailan gripped his chipped sword tight. She was waning too, they were going to die here. Loghain was nowhere to be seen and their men were dying around them.

“Please…someone…anyone…help us.” Tears rolled from her eyes, her end would come at their hands, just as they had almost many times before now. She would become their food or something worse. She would be tainted, left to rot. Soldiers were falling, all of them dying. Without Loghain’s flank, they were helpless to the horde. Fighting all around her, she remained with the weakened king as Duncan. She felt helpless, everything succumbed to the taint, struck down and devoured by the Darkspawn horde. Where soldiers once stood lay corpses, blacked and oozing darkness from wounds and mouths. There was nothing she could do. Nothing.

Then, the worse happened.

Another ogre charged, but instead of charging to the King the ogre slapped the king aside and attacked Duncan. The Grey warden had known the darkspawn brawn charging toward them but his weakened state prevented him from dodging or parry. Snatched up in those giant claws, time seemed to slow to Gwen. Holding the injured king, she watched as Duncan struggled and swang his sword in defence. The ogre ignored his attacks, his free fist raised high, hallowed and aglow from the tower’s signal. Gwen’s heart stopped and her blood froze as the ogre slammed down.

Tears fell.

Her throat hitched.

Her heart drove to a fierce pace.

A pained cry eacaped her lungs as a pillar of light shot from her. Racing to the sky, her eyes turned stark white as she held the down king. Her hurt and pain shrieked in her scream while the wind, aura and light grew around her. Weaker Darkspawn dissolved and disappeared while stronger or larger darkspawn fought to retreat or succumbed and died. The light grew bright and blanketed the field, Darkspawn screeched and men screamed until everything was blinded. The last sound to be heard over the shrieks and shouts, was a great roar.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update this one. I wanted to get a few chapters out and get some editing done before I do. Thanks for waiting!!

* * *

  **The only journey is the one within – Rainer Maria Rilke**  
**One of the greatest journeys in life is overcoming insecurities… - J. A. Konrath**

* * *

 

Breath slipped back into her lungs, gasping and grasping in need. Gwen eased her hungry lungs, evening her gasps and calming her wheezing chest. Composed, she turned to her surroundings. Eyes widened in shock at the decay and carnage surrounding her. Darkspawn and human corpses littered the festering battlefield. Not a soul stirred or twitched, but the soft glow in the distance revealed the horde’s return.

Urged to action, Gwen wobbled to her feet only for her eyes to catch movement. Cailan, still injured from the ogre’s attack, groaned as he tried to move. The ogre’s blow had collapsed his armour, making it difficult to breath.

“Cailan!” Gwen was at his side in an instant, fumbling with the armour latches and fittings. Managing to get the collapsed breast plate off, it eased the King’s breathing if only slightly. Being as gentle as she could, recalling the lessons from home and from the tranquil, she felt along the king’s chest and found a few ribs broken. None were dislodged or moving which boded well. She dreaded the idea of the King with a punctured lung. Pulling out an injury kit, recalling again what the tranquil showed her, she wrapped and fitted his chest to bind the ribs, ensuring they stay in place.

“ _He’ll be fine now,_ ” the sudden voice caused Gwen to jump. But it was a voice she recognised.

“Who’s there? Is anyone alive?!” hopeful someone else had survived, her searching eyes spied another, but this time her heart froze with her breath.

Duncan, lying in a crumbled heap, covered in blood and cradled in a decomposing ogre’s hand. The sheer gore billowed nausea and bile in Gwen’s throat. Threatening to spill out of her mouth. Unable to comprehend, she stepped closer with the King seemingly forgotten for the moment. Blood spilled from Duncan’s mouth, meaning he had his lung punctured, but the flow had stopped some time ago. His armour, though splintered, dented and broken, held most of the gore back. The blow must’ve ripped skin and muscle, only the stained and ripped armour held back his guts and shielding Gwen’s already disturbed state from the horror. In his hands held his longsword and shortsword, both caked with darkspawn blood.

“Duncan…I’m sorry,” tears fell and streaked her cheeks, running faster than before. “If only I were stronger, if only I had seen the ogre before…maybe you would still be alive.”

“ _He died the way he wanted. Before the taint could claim him_ ,” the voice whispered again, this time having no effect on the grieving girl.

“Who are you? Why are you tormenting me?” Gwen asked, tears falling as she mourned the man who saved her many times before.

“ _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to_ ,” Gwen noticed a soft light beside her, a feather hand pressed to her shoulder. It couldn’t be Cailan’s, he was still unconscious and was never that soft. Looking up, her eyes widened at the sight…of the spirit from the wilds. The Spirit she had sat with, spoke with, was now sitting with her again, this time in comfort.

“Wait…how?” Gwen stared in awe. The spirit seemed more…lively, brighter than she was before.

“ _I will explain later. For now, you must get the King away from here, the Horde is on the march_ ,” Gwen knew the spirit was right, but she turned to Duncan, she couldn’t leave him here, to rot on this blood-soaked massacre. But how was she to get them away from here? She couldn’t drag them and she could only support one of them. Looking about, Gwen managed to find a fallen flag and some intact pole arms.

It was hard work, but with her makeshift stretcher, she managed to get Duncan’s body and Cailan on. It wasn’t an ideal plan but it was all she could manage before the horde returned. Straining and struggling, she somehow managed to get far enough from the ruins to miss the approaching horde. Sweat soaked her armour and chilled her to the cooling day but she had to continue on. In that time, the spirit – now named Prue – explained what had happened.

“So…I’m not a Grey Warden?” Gwen asked, panting to catch her breath. They had found a secluded pool far enough from any Darkspawn or danger they might encounter, giving Gwen a chance to listen to Prue.

“ _No, not in the same way as the others_ ,” Prue, despite her detailed explanations, was enthralled by their surroundings. Taking in every chirping bird, swimming fish and wandering animal walking by. “ _I was able to purify the taint within you, had I not you would’ve become something far worse than a Darkspawn_.”

“How?” Gwen used some old cloth from her pack to wash her face, using the pool as a mirror.

“ _The taint was affecting the Lyrium within you, you would’ve become a walking, living crystal_ ,” the realisation shocked Gwen, turning to the spirit. “ _I could not allow that, not after all you had done for me_.”

“But…what have I done for you? All we did before was talk,” Prue’s attention turned back to her, a warm and bright smile pulling her ghosted lips.

“ _My dear, you granted my one desire…a desire that was eating away at me. Had you not come, the world would’ve lost the last bit of purity to desire_ ,” her last comment took her warm smile, casting her sight down in reflective mourning.

“Lost to…you would’ve become a demon?” Gwen asked.

“ _Yes. Spirits can turn without the interference of mortals. My one desire, one I had seen others gain, would’ve finished me. But in meeting you, it was granted. You were the first I encountered to answer my plea_.” Gwen thought again, back to their last meeting. Prue never mentioned a desire, never said anything or asked for anything. How did she grant her desire?

“What was it?” Gwen’s curiosity brought back the sunny smile.

“ _A name_.” Gwen looked confused. “ _Spirits do not have names. Only what we personify. It is the same with demons. Only those powerful enough can bestow their own name, normally it must be granted by a mortal_.” Standing, Gwen watched as Prue glided over the water, not a ripple moved as she moved. “ _Names are powerful things, they give us of the fade individuality, make us unique among other spirit. Though I am the last, a name was all I wanted…and you heeded my plea._ ”

“But you never asked me for a name,” Gwen stood, facing Prue as an equal.

“ _I gave you the thought_ ,” seeing she was confused again, Prue nodded. “ _There have been other before you. Chasind passing through the wilds or travellers using the roads. Each, in their dreams, I visit and plant a thought, the thought of my name. But none answered it, thinking it idle fancy or feared me to be a demon. But you, you considered the thought and answered_.”

“But if that’s the case…why stay?” now Prue was confused. What did Gwen mean? “Well, Wynne told me that spirits often remain in the fade. Those who venture here become demons. But you’re still here, and you’re not a demon.” Now she understood, taking Gwen’s hands in hers.

“ _That’s because we are now one_ ,” looking to the water, Gwen followed. In their reflection, it was as if Gwen stood with Prue whereas Prue seemed to stand with Gwen. “ _Most would call us an abomination. But that isn’t true. You and I are united in one being, we are the same person now._ ” Gwen seemed a little unnerved by that, considering what she had been taught by the Circle. “ _Fear not. I understand you might be concerned or scared. But I have no desire nor want to harm or control. I am here for you Gwen, only you._ ” Her words rung with sincerity, and her earnest pulled Gwen into a hug. “ _What I am is yours, and I swear to protect you as my own. I promise to keep demons at bay and help control your new abilities. You will never be alone…_ ” Prue would be honest if she didn’t expect Gwen to return her hug, but the young human did. Her hands raised and touched Prue’s back, pulling the spirit closer.

“Thank you,” Gwen whispered, fearing her emotions might spill out again. Prue stayed a little longer before disappearing back into Gwen’s soul.

“ _It should be me thanking you, Gwen_ ,” the spirit giggled, her warm presence wrapping Gwen as she turned to her next problem. She couldn’t keep dragging Duncan and Cailan. The King needed a doctor while Duncan…he deserved a proper send-off. She couldn’t bury him in an unmarked gave…so maybe she could…

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but a pyre would be better than a burial. Finding enough to mark a makeshift pyre, Gwen managed to get Duncan in the pyre. Removing his weapons, she managed to get some sticks alight. With a prayer, she placed the fire in the pyre, watching as the flames grew and consumed the fallen Grey Warden.

“May whoever watches over you Duncan, take you away from this horrible place.” She waited for the fire to die out, taking care to collect as much ashes as she could into a small bag. To think; this great man, this warrior, now only fits into a small bag. Wiping her tears, a stirring caught her attention. Cailan was finally waking up.

“M-my lady?” he asked, groaning as he chest hampered his breath and speech. “Where…?”

“It’s alright Cailan, we’re away from Ostegar. The battle…we lost,” the look on the king’s face was enough to show his sorrow and defeat. “Duncan…he saved us.”

“Duncan?...He’s…?” nodding, Gwen showed the King the pouch of ashes. Tears pricked and fell from the King’s eyes. Responsibility and regret fulling him.

“Sire, we have to get away from here. The Horde is coming back, is there anywhere we can go that’s safe?” before he could answer, a noise caught Gwen’s attention. Silencing the King, she hurried to hide his prone form before investigating.

Bow in hand, she passed some of the trees before freezing in terror. Before her, attention focused on a caught deer, was a large, brown spider. Balder wasn’t exaggerating the size of these creatures. Easily dwarfing a man, the spider had caught a white deer…or stag, in its webbing. If she backed away before the spider saw her, she could get Cailan away before they were discovered.

“ _Wait_ ,” Prue whispered, turning Gwen back to the stag and spider. “ _We can’t leave the Halla there_.”

“But…the spider…” Gwen whimpered, watching the arachnid giant skittering about its webbing, wrapping the stag as it struggled.

“ _He will help us if we help him. He is as frightened as you, he will repay you for saving him_ ,” Prue’s confidence and assurance was enough to sway Gwen, but she still wasn’t too keen on dealing with a giant spider, especially alone.

Getting a better view, Gwen notched an arrow and took aim. The spider was too focused on its large catch to be aware of her. Drawn back, calming her breath and shakes, she aimed and quickly fired before her nerves could take her again. The arrow sailed, the tip driving into the spider’s abdomen. A hellish shriek echoed from the creature, turning from its prey to search for its attacker. Keeping low, Gwen froze as it crawled over her hiding spot but left itself open to her. Using Duncan’s sword, she gripped the handle and drove up. The spider shrieked again, jerking and struggling as the blade pierced it through. Gwen held strong until it finally stopped moving, curling in on itself.

Tipping to the side, moving as fast as she could to distance herself from the now dead arachnid, Gwen turned to the stag, or Halla. It was skittish, still fearing its life was in danger. Gwen placed Duncan’s sword down, moving to pull the tough webbing from the animal. She tried to be mindful of pieces stuck to the Halla’s coat.

Once freed, the creature bolted from her. Gwen wasn’t surprised. How was an animal as skittish as that supposed to help her? Sighing, she picked up Duncan’s sward and moved back toward Cailan when the sound of movement coming up behind her. Surprised, Gwen froze as the Halla edged closer to her. In a moment where she felt her breath would scare the animal away, it’s head leaned to her; nostrils flaring as it inhaled her scent. Calm surrounded the pair, giving Gwen the moment to raise her hand. Slow and careful, she smiled as her hand touched the silken muzzle. The Halla flinched, but nickered and leaned into her touch.

“ _See. He wants to help_ ,” Prue smiled, whispering from the recesses of Gwen’s soul. Testing her luck, Gwen edged around the Halla and grabbed its scruff much like the horses back home. The Halla shook its head, shaking her grip from its back. Concerned, Gwen stepped back in case the Halla became agitated from her action, only to find it follow her. She didn’t need to lead it?

Testing a few more steps, the Halla continued to follow until they were back at Cailan’s hiding place. With what she could managed, and what the Halla seemed to allow, Gwen managed to get Cailan’s tired and injured body onto the Halla’s back. It seemed alright with carrying the weak human, walking close to Gwen as her hand rested against its neck, ready to tug and guide him down the roads.

“Cailan…can you hear me?” Gwen asked, checking on the young king. He groaned, showing he was still alive and somewhat conscious. “Where can we go that’s safe? From the Horde…and possible from Loghain?” she had her suspicions. Something about Loghain’s flanking charge not coming on the signal rung strange with her. Did they just not see it? No, the Tower of Ishal was the tallest structure in the ruins, anyone could see it.

The tower.

Alistair! Jocelyn! Balder! Cameron!

They were at the tower when the Horde clashed!

Coming over another hill, it stood high enough to reveal the state of the tower. Crumbled, shattered and barely keeping together. Did that mean…? But what was she to do now?! Gwen wasn’t even a real warden! What was she to do against Loghain.

“G-Gwen…” the king’s muffled moan caught her ear, halting her worry and panic. Now it turned to him, quickly checking him over in case his wounds worsened. “R-Redcliffe…we need…to go to…Redcliffe.”

“Redcliffe? But…I don’t know?” Gwen wondered what she could do. She didn’t know where Redcliffe was. She didn’t know where to start. The road she had taken didn’t have any road signs nor anything that could tell her where they were. But given the road was prominent, it meant it was used regularly. Urging the Halla on, Gwen hoped she would find someone to help them.

* * *

 

It was hours before they saw anyone else. Gwen had to stop every now and then to check on Cailan; he was holding out but his injuries were getting worse by the hour. They came to a fork in the road, one where a few farmers had gathered up their homes in order to escape the Blight. They were surprised by seeing her with a Halla, as well as seeing a man on its back, but Gwen had felt it wise to hide Cailan’s face. Any word to get back to Loghain could prove bad for the King.

The farmers had directed her to Lothering, though many were fleeing there with the horde drawing closer. Coming over the highway, Gwen groaned at the sight of a blockade. It was abandoned with…rotting corpses littering the way, she would have to go through town with her Halla to get anywhere. So much for hiding that fact. Moving into town, Cailan hidden and ignoring the stares from the others there, she hoped someone could help. Her concern turned to Cailan; if anyone recognised him it would turn grave so the longer they were there, the more of a chance someone would recognise them.

Finding a merchant with a decent store, Gwen traded everything she could afford to give for some healing poultices, injury kits and some herbs. She strained to recall everything Wynne taught her about healing and how some plants were good for treating wounds. Whatever remained left her with about one-hundred gold.

Journeying through town, she stopped to others for directions to Redcliffe but none would help, were too scared to approach or would demand coin in exchange for information.

“You won’t get anything out of them here,” came a voice, turning to the inn were a young woman stood. She was about the same age as her, early-twenties if she had to guess. Though, being twenty-two herself and most medieval stories she had heard of had many heroes in their teens but appeared older, she could’ve been wrong. “People here are far too desperate to consider simple generosity.”

“I just need directions, you’d think I was asking for everything they had,” Gwen replied, jerking to the King when his hand reached for her.

“Is your friend hurt? My mother can help him if you want, and especially if you need to get to Redcliffe, he might not make it,” the woman offered, but Gwen hesitated. A skilled healer could help the King but it would be exposing him. She looked about, she was weary of the others around them.

“Is…is there somewhere she can help…away from prying eyes?” Gwen asked. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if the King died because she just wanted to be cautious. He had to make it to Redcliffe, he had to.

“Sure, back this way,” the woman showed her around, leading to a house close to the edge of town. Helping her get Cailan off the Halla, she hoped it would stay there. A small whisper to the beast and offering a small carrot seemed to still its movements, waiting patiently.

Helping the woman, she led her into the home were an older woman, young man and woman sitting at a table.

“Marian, what?” the older woman asked but rushed to their side at the sight of the concealed King. “Bethany get the herbs from the cupboard, Marion get some clean water and rags, Carver help me get him to the bed.” Doing as ordered, the woman – Marian – handed her hold over to the man – Carver – and helped usher Cailan to the bed. Gwen remained close to ensure the King’s identity wasn’t compromised. The other woman – Bethany – rushed to the older woman’s side with herbs. Gwen quickly dug into her bag and offered injury kits and poultices too, thankful for their help.

“Wait a minute,” Carver suddenly said, moving away the only piece hiding the King’s face – his helmet.

“No Don’t!” Gwen snapped, too late as the family was exposed to his true identity.

“Maker’s breath, the King?” Bethany gasped, turning to Gwen.

“Please please, you can’t tell anyone he’s alive!” Gwen gasped, trying to calm them, even snatching Carver’s arm to stop him from leaving. “If Loghain finds out he’s alive he’ll try to kill him again!”

“Wait? Again?” Marian asked, stopping Carver herself before turning back to Gwen. “He’s the regent? And the Queen’s father, why would he want his son-in-law killed?”

“Because…” How could she explain? How could she make them understand? “I’m…a Grey Warden, from Ostegar. I was with the King when the Horde attacked. But when the signal fire went up, Loghain never charged like he was supposed to. Then…I kinda blanked out and found the King alive where…everyone was…and the bodies…” Reminded of the state around her, tears were already rolling down her cheeks and the bile threatened to spill from her mouth before Carver offered her water.

“That is strange,” the woman mused, working on the King’s injuries. “Then why come through here?”

“I’m trying to get him to Redcliffe, he said he had allies who could help him there before he blacked out,” She offered her hands to help hold a path when her hands brushed Bethany’s. The sudden contact affected her markings, flaring to life and sending a painful jolt up her arm. “Ah!”

“W-What was that?” Bethany gasped, holding her own hand. She didn’t seem to be in pain but she seemed to be affected too. Looking at her hand, watching the tattoos fade, she took a good look at Bethany. Something she had noticed about other mages were the strange auras around them. Normal people didn’t have anything visible to her when she looked hard enough, but mages seemed to have a warp around them if she looked hard enough.

“You’re a mage?” Gwen asked, causing them to jump.

“How? No No I’m not!” Bethany panicked, turning to the older woman, Marian and Carver.

“Yes you are! Only the mages at Ostegar could make these…stupid things flare up,” removing a gauntlet and pulled her sleeve up to reveal the lyrium tattoos. “They’re lyrium so mages make them flare up.”

“How?” Marion asked only for screams outside to catch her off, rushing out she left the older woman, Bethany and Gwen with Cailan as Carver rushed out too. “We’ve gotta go, now!”

“What?” Gwen gasped, watching a villager drop with an arrow in the back of her skull.

“It’s the horde!” Carver snapped, rushing in and grabbing a large greatsword.

“Cailan?!” Gwen gasped, turning to the King.

“He’s fine but we can’t stay any longer!” the older woman gasped, gathering some items while Carver helped Marian. They were willing to help, Gwen felt a little easier about that, running outside to see what was going on. Darkspawn were few but it meant the bulk of the horde was coming. Covering the house, bow drawn and notched, she took out any who got to close, mostly genlocks and a few hurlocks running about. Carver and Marian managed to get Cailan back onto the Halla as it was panicking, turning to Gwen as she took out the approaching Darkspawn.

“We have to go now!” Marian snapped, turning to Bethany and the woman coming out of the house. Gwen reached her Halla and, much to its dismay, looped a rope around it to secure Cailan. Doing something she had not done in a long while, Gwen managed to stead the Halla enough to jump onto its back. It didn’t like the idea at first but slowly calmed as she took position.

“I’ll cover the rear, go on ahead!” Gwen shouted, watching Marian tend to her family. It was the least she could do, help them escape. She hadn’t been able to do much else but she swore she would make up for it now. Astride the Halla, Gwen aimed with ease and took out the approaching Darkspawn, allowing other villages flee with their lives.

But the Horde was getting too close; more Hurlocks and Genlocks swarmed, an Alpha entered the village with Emissaries and ogres at its back. Wasting no more time, Gwen urged the Halla on. Fleeing the Village. Making it to a hill far enough away, she could still hear the screams and shrieks of darkspawn and those who failed to leave in time. Lothering had been overrun. Sighing, Gwen had to find Marian and the others, before they were caught to. The mass of the horde hit Lothering, but the Horde stretched far, small pockets would likely be scouting the areas near Lothering, meaning other villagers would still be caught.

Pushed on, the Halla galloped with ease despite the weight it carried. Looking back, Cailan murmured and mumbled, meaning he was still alive. She despite her own priorities, she just couldn’t let Marian and her family perish.

She searched the direction they fled in but there was no sign of them. Her panic rose as more Darkspawn corpses littered the roads. They must’ve come through her, at least she hoped. Urging the Halla up a tall ridge, she could hear the sounds of a battle, encouraged she reached the top to see Marian, Bethany, Carver and two others fighting a scouting group of Darkspawn. They were winning and the ground shook as the last Hurlock fell.

Gwen quickly dismounted the Halla, she knew something big was coming.

“Stay here, keep the King safe!” she ordered the Halla, she even lashed it to a tree just in case it fled. Turning back to the battle, her blood stilled as the Ogre turned to Bethany and the old woman.

“Bethany! Mother!” The chill snapped again. She had a feeling the woman was their mother but to hear it, and see the Ogre take an interest in them. Something drove her forward, she had to get to them before the Ogre attacked.

Bethany used her magic, conjuring a fire ball at the beast but it had little effect. The Ogre, enraged, loomed over to snatch the young mage up. Gwen’s memory flashed, recalling Duncan in the grasp of that Ogre. She could feel the same swell as before, the one that blacked her out at Ostegar but instead of the billowing tower of light, her body became enveloped, wrapping her like a veil; her feet left the ground and shot forward.

 The Ogre’s hand just reached for Bethany when a bullet of light shot the beast down, throwing it back as the figure dimmed. Gwen stood before them, her bow exchanged for the matching twin daggers. Bethany watched in shock, unsure of where she came from and just what she did, but the lyrium licked around her like flames and her markings grew bright.

“Get back, stay out of sight!” Gwen ordered, a new found confidence rushing through her as the Ogre recovered. More Darkspawn approached the battle but Marian and the others held them back. Leaving Gwen with the Ogre. “You’re not taking another one, not one more!” The Ogre roared and charged, Gwen only managing to dodge and swiped at its legs. Remembering what Jocelyn taught her in the wilds; short foes – aim for the chest and neck, big foes – aim for the legs and ankles.

The Ogre charged again, missing Gwen’s dodge as she cleaved through its thigh. It was hampered but not out yet. Instead of charging, the Ogre grabbed one of the large boulders around them. She managed to dodge them also, but one sailed toward Marian.

“Hawke!!” the guardswoman called, watching as the boulder almost pinned Marian but gawked as the Grey Warden who appeared out of nowhere slammed her aside, completely missing the boulder.

Gwen recovered from the tackle, helping Marian to her feet. She had to end this. The Ogre could target anyone and the boulders were too large to keep dodging. Gripping her daggers tight, she lurched forward, sprinting through the incoming hurlocks, dodging as they fell to Marian and the others, reaching the roaring Ogre. Fists slammed into the earth, shaking and splitting the ground as she ducked and weaved, slashing what flesh she could get in reach.

Focus.

Growing thinner and thinner.

Becoming a taut thread.

Time slowed, breath held, eyes fixed on a single point.

Lyrium whipped from her markings, lashing to the daggers and warping them into an ethereal glow. Dodging the last blow, legs bent underneath and launching like a trebuchet. Blades arc like the crescent moon, blood sprays and splatters, falling on top of the Ogre’s corpse.

Time snapped back to the right rate, lungs sucking in as much air as she could muster. Gwen shook and didn’t fight the arm pulling her away from the ogre. What just happened? It was like…pure instinct or sheer will took her over and just…moved her. But it was like she knew what she was doing, or at least something was guiding her. Was it Prue? No, Pure always had a light, soft presence. Like being wrapped in a soft velvet blanket. This…it was like wearing a suit of armour and the armour was moving, not her.

The horde had been cleared for now; coming back to her senses Gwen turned to the mother and Bethany. Both had remained clear of the battle after her interference, both holding one another as the shock ran its course.

“Oh Bethany, are you alright?” the woman cooed, holding the shaking mage.

“Yes I…I think so…” Bethany gasped, trying to calm the shakes in her limbs. When Gwen came into view, the young woman lurched, wrapping her arms around her. “Thank you, for saving mother.”

“For saving us both, thank you Warden,” the mother approached, the same teary thankful smile as she too embraced her. Gwen felt so awkward, having both of them thank her. Even she was having a trying time wrapping her head around what she had done.

“We thought you were gone,” Carver gasped, running up to the group. “Where’s the King?”

“The King? He…died at Ostegar did he…” the guardswoman and the Templar stalled, watching as Gwen’s Halla approached. Somehow it got free of the tree, coming down the hill to Gwen. “By the Maker.”

“How is he?” the mother asked, watching as Gwen, Carver and Marian helped the King off the Halla, giving it a rest. The mother looked over what she had healed in the hut, accepting an injury pack from her son.

“Good, so far. He’s breathing at least, but I need to get him to Redcliffe soon or…” shrieks and snarls drew closer, turning back to find more darkspawn approaching. “Oh no.”

“Keep them back!” Marian snapped, producing her daggers. Gwen swapped her daggers for her bow, staying close to the King and their mother. Notching her arrows, she picked any stragglers who got through or too close.

But the battle grew too long, soon Gwen was out of arrows. Groaning, she watched as Marian and the others drew back, crowding around Bethany, the King and their mother. No arrows, just her luck. What was she supposed to do? The Bow was her batter weapon, the one she had more experience in, without arrows…a small glimmer caught her eye. Looking down at the fingers clawing her bowstring, a thin line of light lined from her fingers to the bow handle. But as soon as she looked closer, it was gone.

Turning her attention back to the horde, pondering what to do, another shrill roar rolled over the hills. Looking up to an overhanging peak, the tip parted large leather wings and revealed the dragon beneath it. Its roar shrieked and rolled down to them, its wing beats like a storm gust as it sails down from the peak. Its bulk loomed over but passed over and attacked the darkspawn. The group watched in awe as the dragon swiped and bit, scorching the ground with fiery breath.

Then it stopped. Lumbering to the ground, Darkspawn in hand, as a light surrounded it. Spinning and warping until its shape shrunk. Smaller and smaller until it stood the size of a woman. Hips swayed as the new form sauntered up to them. Hair as snow, bound and tied to resemble the horns of the dragon, armour of scale leather and steel, eyes a startling gold.

“Flemeth?” Gwen gasped, standing before the woman. She looked so different to the crone she had met in the wilds.

“Well, well. What had we here?” Flemeth drawled, looking over the group before her eyes rested on Gwen again. “Ah yes, the one from the other world, didn’t perish at Ostegar I see.”

“No. I didn’t but…how, why are you here?” Gwen asked.

“Warden, care to introduce us?” Marian asked, eyeing the newcomer as she approached.

“This is Flemeth, she isn’t a threat…though looks can be deceiving,” Gwen remarked, turning back to the woman.

“Indeed, you have learnt much since our last meeting…yet you are not like the others,” Flemeth’s eyes turned to the guardswoman and the Templar, buckling under his feet as she led him to rest on the ground. “They yet live, in case you’re wondering.”

“They…they’re alive?!” Gwen gasped, her heart wrenching from the news. They lived, thank goodness. “Where are they?”

“That I cannot say, they journey to fulfil treaties or seek revenge. They could be anywhere,” Flemeth watched as the light shining from the good new dimmed at the unknown. Her attention then turned to Marian. She could see this group were not with the Warden. “Now, if you wish to flee these darkspawn, you should know you are heading in the wrong direction.” Turning to leave, Bethany rushed forward.

“Wait! You can’t leave us here!” she called, pausing the older woman.

“Can I not?” Gwen had thought, with that tone, Bethany had insulted Flemeth but glancing down to Gwen, she seemed to rethink. “I spotted a most curious sight; a might ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat?” her gaze met Gwen again, one that turned her away. She couldn’t explain what she did or how, hoping Flemeth would not ask. “But now my curiosity is sated, and you are safe…for the moment. Is that not enough?”

“We won’t be able to get through the darkspawn on our own,” Marian admitted, glancing to her still whole family. “And neither will the King.”

“They are everywhere, or soon will be. Where is it you plan to run to, hmm?” Flemeth asked, eyeing the two sisters.

“We need to get to Kirkwall – in the Free Marches,” Bethany urged, hoping this woman would help.

“Kirkwall?” Flemeth remarked, “My, but that is quite the voyage you plan,” eyeing Gwen again, somehow seeing something the others didn’t. “And what of you, my dear, where is it you wish to go?”

“Redcliffe, where the King has allies,” Gwen replied, but kept her focus on helping the mother with the King’s injuries.

“And your King will not miss you, hmm?” Flemeth asked, directing it to Marian rather than Gwen, seeing her focus devoted to the injured.

“King Cailan was betrayed. There is nothing for me, for us, here,” Marian replied, bile in her words recalling with Gwen had told them.

“I see,” Flemeth mused, mulling her answer. “Hurtled into the chaos, you fight…and the world will shake before you…” Marian watched confused as Flemeth took to her own conversation, mumbling and mulling over some strange thought. “Is it fate or chance? I can never decide.” Her musings soon fell quiet, raising her head as if the answer stood before her. Turning back, a new gleam in her eyes shone bright. “It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet.”

“Anything you could do for us would be appreciated,” Marian smiled, gladdened to hear they might get through this.

“Maybe we shouldn’t trust her. I don’t even know what she is,” Bethany mused. Gwen turned to answer but fell short as the guardswoman piped in. Breaking her silence.

“I know what she is: The Witch of the Wilds,” still by the templar’s side, she gripped her blade in case of retaliation.

“Some call me that. Also Flemeth. Asha’bellanar. An ‘old hag who talks too much!’” the last comment she chuckled, Gwen could tell that remark was from Morrigan. “Does it matter? I offer you this: I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a ‘Witch of the Wilds’?” she asked, handing over a large amulet, a ruby set in its centre. Marian took the amulet, eyeing and inspecting it.

“We…don’t have much choice,” Marian sighed, looking over the smoking corpses. Flemeth agreeing grimly. “But what of the Warden, she’s going a different way?” turning to Gwen, she merely smiled.

“Just point the way, I can get the King to Redcliffe…I hope,” the whispered the later to herself, still unsure of herself. Flemeth took her at her word despite catching her unsure whisper.

“There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she ask with it and any debt between us is paid in full.” Nodding, Marian agreed with the witch, shaking hands to seal the deal. “Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter…” as if on que, the Templar started coughing and spluttering. Turning to him, Gwen rushed to his side only to recoil back in pain. Eyes wide in horror at the black streaks lining his skin, the greying of his eyes and paling skin. He had the Blight.

Duncan had explained the effects of the Blight on those who don’t go through the joining. The disease it carries and how it affects people. This man was no doubt going to die a slow and painful death, or transform into a ghoulish form. Neither were good outcomes.

“No! Leave him alone!” the guardswoman snapped, blocking Marian and Flemeth’s approach.

“What has been done to you man is within his blood already,” Flemeth remarked, eyeing the Templar.

“You lie!” the woman snapped, glaring at Flemeth.

“She’s right, Aveline,” the Templar spoke, grasping and croaking. “I can feel the corruption inside me.” Jerking from a jolt of pain, Aveline was back at his side.

“There must be something we can do,” Marian turned to Gwen for the answer, but found she too was thinking the same. What could be done?

“The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden…” Flemeth trailed off as she eyes Gwen. “Although, intervention I’ve found can bring the most wondrous or most disastrous of changes.” All eyes fell to Gwen, herself find this overwhelming. “I see it now. Your very steps alter the world around you. Like the flutter of a butterfly, you could bring riches or ruin…just as you did in your joining~” Gwen froze. How did she know? Flemeth was never there nor did she see her afterwards.

“ _It’s okay,_ ” Prue cooed, calming her. “ _She knows more of everything than we might think._ ” Confused, Gwen turned to Flemeth to see the small gleam in her eyes, the gleam of a secret well hidden. Knowledge only she could hold. Gulping, Gwen turned to the Templar to find her conviction.

“There…is a way.” Aveline froze, staring at the Warden. “It…it’s only done it once, and you might not like where it comes from.”

“What does it matter?! Please, help him,” Aveline urged. Sighing, hoping this wouldn’t bite her in the back, she looked to Flemeth.

“Are…you sure?” she asked.

“As sure as your bond,” was her only response.

Nodding, Gwen came next to the Templar and knelt. She was still unsure of what to do.

“ _Deep breaths Gwen, this will hurt us more than him. Just remember to keep breathing_ ,” Prue instructed, her warmth enveloping her and guiding her hands to the Templar.

It was like placing her hands on hot coals. The blight was thick in him, reddening the blue lyrium. Biting back a hiss, trying to keep her breaths even, Gwen placed a hand on his wound and another on his head.

“You…you’ll need to hold him down…this will hurt,” in an instant, Aveline held one arm while Carver approached to hold the other. Marian knelt down and bolted his legs, giving Gwen enough space. Breathing, Gwen could feel Prue move, her spirit filling her entire body as the process began. Where her hands were placed, she could pass Prue’s power into the Templar, but with it brought the resistance and the pain.

The Templar shot up in agony, nothing compared to Gwen’s. His was a burning, like being thrown into a fire. Gwen, however, felt just as she did at the joining. The song screeching in her ears, the demon touching her skin, the lyrium boiling and burning her very soul. But she had to hold on, stopping now could kill him. Harder and harder she pushed the pain and feelings back, she couldn’t succumb to the song or the taint.

Beyond her, the group watched in awe and fear as Gwen began to glow, her tattoos bleeding through her armour while those visible looked as though they were changing, shifting between blue and red. On the Templar, thrashing and screaming hoarse, the blight rippled through his skin, meeting where Gwen held him. Blood ooze black in her hands, disappearing as it touched.

Colour slowly came back to his skin, sweat collecting on his brow while Gwen stumbled away from the group. Marian moved and followed, only to witness Gwen hurl the blight from her mouth behind a rock. It was just like at the Joining, she could barely breathe as more blight gurgled up her throat and past her lips. Once the last fell, allowing her to slowly catch her breath, she found a canteen of water offered. Bethany smiled, rubbing her back as she washed the blood away and calmed her burning throat.

“How?” Looking back to Aveline, holding the man – her husband – in her arms. He was calm and breathing, still recovering from the pain. “You are no mage and I’ve never seen magic like that before.” Gwen coughed as she tried to speak, but Flemeth stood in.

“Be thankful you have your man. Talent such as this is rare. Fortune favoured you, better not to question.” Flemeth ended all questions with that one comment, turning to Gwen as she managed to stand on her feet, albeit shaky. “As for you, my dear. Redcliffe lies on that path,” pointing to one of the dirt paths leading away from their battlefield. “Follow it all the way to a large waterfall. Redcliffe village will be at the base. Best be quick too, your King might not have long.”

“T-Thank you,” Gwen coughed, turning to group. They had to get moving too, while the Horde was no great threat to them with Flemeth, Gwen would still need all the time she could get to avoid the horde.

Wishing their farewells and thanks, Gwen managed to get Cailan back on the Halla with Carver and Aveline’s help. Promises were made before Gwen took the Halla away, once again managing to ride it. It would be too long before she saw them again, but she hoped they made it safely to Kirkwall.

She had a Blight to worry about.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

 

A day passed before she reached the waterfall and the village. She could see the villagers running about, shouts of praise and celebration. Why? What happened here? They knew there was a Blight rising right?

But the need to the King took over her curiosity, dismounting the Halla and hurrying it into the Village.

“Help! Help! Someone please help me!!” She cried, catching a knights’ attention. Coming over the bridge and meeting her at the hill, they were shocked to see her armour and the Halla with her.

“Another Grey Warden, I thought Alistair said there was only the four of them,” hearing the name Gwen stopped.

“Alistair? H-He’s alive?” she gasped, but Cailan’s groan caught her again. “Please, Cailan needs help!”

“Cailan? _King_ Cailan?!” the knight rushed to the halla, recognising the golden armour of the King. “Come on, to the castle! Bann Teagan will want to hear of this!” Taking the lead, Gwen urged the Halla forward and followed the Knight up to the castle, another had run ahead and screamed at the gate. Just as Gwen came to the gate, three other knights clambered and gathered the King from the Halla, two ladies-in-waiting rushed forward and checked over his injuries while following the Knights into another room.

The Halla nickered, as if asking if its task is done. Smiling, petting the animal and offering what little food she had before watching it gallop off.

“ _He was happy he could help you_ ,” Prue smiled.

“I’m glad too. There would’ve been no way I could’ve gotten Cailan here or help the Hawkes too without him,” Gwen smiled. A sudden strange feeling came over Gwen, shivering from its cold touch, a crackle of pain shooting through her tattoos. But when she blinked again, the world around her had changed; the blue sky was replaced with a sickly green, a haze wrapped everything as patches of land dotted the horizon.

“ _Connor! Where are you?!_ ” came a man’s shout, echoing from the beyond.

“ _Father! Father can you hear me?!_ ” replied a young boy, sounding just as distant.

“Prue, what’s going on? Where are we?” Gwen gasped, wanting to move to the voices but found her path blocked by an abyss.

“ _This is the Fade, much like when we first met_ ,” Prue replied, but even her words didn’t seem convincing.

“But this…this looks different to before. Nothing was this…sick,” Gwen looked to the trees and statues, dead and spiralling like knarred roots while the statues depicted horrors and other strange beings.

“ _There is a demon close by, one of Desire…like the other_ ,” Prue warned, causing a shiver to pass through Gwen; she remembered the demon from the joining, the one who had tried to possess her if it hadn’t been for Prue.

“GWEN!!” surprised by the shout, the world seemed to shift back. Green became blue and everything became healthy again. Looking up the stairs leading to the main hall, she gasped at the sight of not only Alistair, but Jocelyn, Cameron and Baldor. They were all alive! They survived the Tower and Ostegar!!

“You’re alive…” tears pricked and rolled from her eyes, running up to the stairs as Cameron, Baldor and Jocelyn scaled down. Baldor’s arms were the first to embrace her. His thick arms wrapping around her waist drew a strange warmth up from her. But the feeling was lost when Cameron embraced her and Jocelyn looped her too. The triple hug lasted only moments before they stepped back and bombarded her with questions. Where had she gone? What had happened at the battle? How did she manage to get Cailan here alone? Where is the Horde? What happened to the other Wardens? Where was Duncan?

“Duncan…” she breathed, causing the others to pause. Alistair approached, seeing Gwen avoiding his gaze.

“What happened?” Alistair asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Trying to calm her breathing before she pulled the blades from her back. Turning to the senior warden, tears streaming again, she handed the familiar blades to Alistair.

“I…I’m sorry Alistair. Duncan, he…he…” she couldn’t voice it but she could see the impact slam into the young Warden. He must’ve known something had happened and yet, he appeared as a kicked puppy. “I…made sure the Darkspawn didn’t get his body…I gave him a proper sendoff.” Again, reaching into her pack, she produced a small pouch of ashes and handing it to Alistair. “I…I thought you might want to…” hands clasped around hers, cradling the ashes and the blades. Looking up, Alistair shared the same tears she had. Looking to the others, they held sombre looks heads laid low.

“Thank you Gwen, thank you,” accepting the ashes, Alistair embraced the younger woman, holding her as the tears fell with abandoned. She hadn’t had the chance to mourn or let out everything that had happened. She was in a medieval battle against horrors. She killed a giant spider. She rode on the back of a white stag with strange horns. She saved a King from death. She killed an Ogre. She’s now possessed by a spirit! Everything was hitting home now, and only now was she able to really vent it out. Calming down, wiping the tears from her eyes, she nodded to Alistair as he checked her over. The hurt and bottled up stress lessened, but she could feel it building again.

“Forgive me Alistair,” came a new voice, looking behind them Gwen found another man standing before them. Clean cut and regal in red silks and satin, Gwen wondered if he was a noble. “But your uncle and Connor have little time, we need the help of the mages.”

“Oh yes Teagan, sorry,” Alistair nodded and leading the group away. Gwen then noticed there were others with them. A tall brute of a man glowered at everyone around him. A young woman in chantry robes. She turned to the last and was surprised to find Morrigan with them.

“Morrigan?” she asked, approaching the woman.

“Uh, the young warden, we had thought you perished at the battle. It would seem mother was wrong,” she snickered, pleased with that idea.

“I almost had…if not for Duncan,” Gwen held her tongue regarding the truth. No one knew she had a spirit yet. She remembered what the mages taught her about the Fade and the spirits there. If she told them about Prue…they would think she were an abomination. That would cause complications she didn’t want to think about.

“And you saved the king too? Impressive,” Morrigan eyed her, making Gwen a little uneasy. Something about the wild woman put her off in that moment. Did she know something? Or was she just being suspicious. Stopping in the village for supplies, they took to the Imperial Highway again.

“So you are the young warden the others have spoken of?” Pulled from her worried thoughts, Gwen turned to their new red-haired companion. She wore clean and immaculate chantry robes, much like the other sisters in the Loathering chantry. A twinge pulled in the back of her mind, one that hoped she wouldn’t be bored to tears with a sister’s religious rant.

“Y-yes. I’m Gwen,” she introduced, watching the sister as she smiled.

“And I am Leliana. I am glad you were able to flee Ostegar. So many lost their lives there, Maker’s breath,” she cooed. So no religious rant? Gwen found it strange she was the first sister not to jump right into the Chant of Light nor warble off some sort of rhetoric. “No doubt the Maker was watching over you to make it from such carnage.”

And there it was.

“No. I doubt that,” Gwen could only answer honestly, but it turned against her as she saw the look on the sister’s face. Man she could be too nice for her own good. “But…I really think someone was watching out for me.” A gentle touch warmed her arm, Prue embracing her from behind and illuminating her love and happiness from the comment.

“That may be, but the Maker works in mysterious ways. I too believe the Maker set me this mission to help the Grey Wardens against the Archdemon,” Leliana smiled, finding a surprised and disbelieving look on Gwen’s face. “I know you must think that is a ludicrous notion, but truly I believe the Maker has set this task before me.”

“Hey I’m not questioning that,” Gwen piped, stopping the woman’s triad. “If…that is what you believe then believe it. Don’t worry what others think or say. Your belief is yours,” Leliana smiled, seemingly grateful for her kind words.

“Thank you,” Gwen nodded, moving up in the group to walk with her fellow wardens.

“So what happened to you guys in the tower? You obviously got the signal fire going,” Gwen looked to each to gage a reaction, maybe get an idea what happened without causing too much harm from the memory. Jocelyn looked ready to kill; her brow scrunched, a scowl marring the noble features of her face and her teeth ground together. Baldor more or less remained the same but seemed hardened much like their human companion. Cameron was the only one to speak of it while Alistair remained blank.

“Indeed. We reached the top of the tower, albeit with resistance,” he watched as Gwen’s surprise surfaced across her face. “The Darkspawn had tunnelled from below and captured the tower before we could approach. Fighting through the hordes within its walls, an Ogre had been positioned at the tower’s peak. We managed to kill the beast, losing the king’s men who accompanied us, but the horde swarmed the tower again…the last I recall were several arrows and the call of a dragon.”

“D-dragon?” Gwen muttered. Did they see Flemeth as a dragon too? Who else could it have been if Morrigan was with them.

“Morrigan claims it was her mother that saved us. I have heard of mages capable of shapeshifting,” Jocelyn added, looking over to said wilder.

“Indeed it is,” Cameron took the opportunity to show his point. His body became enveloped in a bright light, causing most to turn away. When the light cleared, Gwen gasped at the sight of a bear standing beside her. “Though I am still training in such arts, it is much more difficult than most would claim.”

“I would have thought a Dalish mage, such as yourself, would be capable of greater changes,” Morrigan quipped, glancing back as the elf returned to his true form.

“That may be, but my Keeper taught restraint above all else, lest I lose myself in the change,” Cameron turned back to Gwen, noticing her surprise. “There is much of mages it would seem you are still unaware of,” his hand reached out to her but suddenly stopped when she pulled away.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking away ashamed. “The mages at Ostegar…make my tattoos sting more.” She almost revealed Bethany. She couldn’t do that to her, Bethany had already been through enough. Thinking about the Hawkes, she wondered if they made it to the port and out to the Free Marches. Cameron nodded, understanding her plight, but continued to walk at her side as their journey continued.

Even though it would’ve been easier to take a boat from Redcliffe to get to the Mage’s tower, the only port with access to the cut off tower was on the eastern bank. It would take a full day to get there, spanning the southern side of the lake to get there.

But as they’re turned up to head north from the southern bank, the group came to a halt as a loud barking suddenly erupted. Bounding up the road from an abandoned paddock, a large Mabari came to a halt before Gwen, barking and growling while pointing to an approaching group of Darkspawn. Leading them, an Alpha, pulled his thumb across his neck, his orders clear.

“Ready yourselves!” Alistair cried, sword and shield at the ready. Sten, the silent man, hefted a large greatsword from his back, Leliana drew a bow while the others drew their own weapons. Both sides were evenly matched, each other taking on a single darkspawn. Gwen returned to her daggers, trying to recall the moves and steps Jocelyn had drilled her back in the wilds.

Stiff wrists, relax only after striking. Blades down, use the hilt if you have to. Keep eyes open and up, never look down unless your opponent is below your waist.

Gwen parried the genlock’s sword, bringing her daggers down on his neck. Kicked off, flicking the blood from her daggers, she never saw the Alpha charge.

“Gwen! Look out!!” Cameron called, turning her head just to see the Alpha raise his axe. Alistair, his first opponent, was helped to his feet by Jocelyn, Cameron was too far back with Morrigan and Leliana, Sten was caught back by the last two Hurlocks and left Gwen exposed. Her shock and surprise stilled her legs, her body locked as the axe came down. A loud shout echoed from her left, Baldor trying to urge his stout legs to move faster as the axe drew closer.

An echoing bark and a feral snarl.

Something large and brown leaped across her vision, latching onto the Alpha’s neck, its bulk skidding the axe from its grip and snarling as it shook and snapped the darkspawn ‘s neck with a sickening crack.

The shock waning, Gwen collapsed to her knees, her body shaking from the experience. A tiny whimper turned her to the hound. The Mabari looked familiar, those same big eyes looking at her. The hound whimpered, shaking the Darkspawn blood from his maw as he approached, sniffing and nuzzling the shocked girl. Placing his head on her shoulder, she could feel him nuzzle and cuddle close. Was he trying to comfort her? Her arms wrapped around the hound’s thick neck, hugging the animal close in thanks. He had saved her life at the near loss of his own. Prue stirred within her, assuring her the Darkspawn hadn’t poisoned nor harmed the noble animal.

“Gwen! Are you okay?” Jocelyn was at her side, her own hound following as he sniffed the newcomer. Gwen nodded, retrieving her daggers and looking to the new hound. Jocelyn helped her to her feet and, in a shock to them both, Jocelyn pulled the younger woman into a tight hug. Jocelyn held the hug for only a moment before pulling back, keeping Gwen at arm’s length. “You handled yourself well, but don’t you _ever_ lock up like that again.” Gwen, though still surprised, smiled and nodded. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she jumped as the new hound nuzzled her hand.

“I think he was looking for you,” Alistair smiled, watching the dog’s little tail wag and how it licked Gwen’s hand. “He’s…chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have to put up with another mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful,” Morrigan groaned, glaring at Jocelyn’s Mabari as he growled at her insensitive comment.

“Ain’t these hounds meant to show nobility or something?” Baldor asked, kinda edging closer to the Mabari, watching as it only looked to him then turned back to Gwen.

“Oh how cute, he is such a darling,” Leliana smiled, bending down to offer the dog a treat. It seemed interested in the treat but only took it when Leliana leaned close so he didn’t need to move from Gwen’s side.

“It is strong, capable of killing the Darkspawn. It will be useful to keep,” Sten muttered, remaining stoic while wiping the darkspawn blood from his blade.

“Indeed, besides the hound may perish if we were to leave it here,” Cameron watched as Gwen seemed to contemplate the idea of having the hound with her. She stared down at the hound and watched it pant and sit back on his hind-legs. Kneeling next to the hound, Gwen petted his ears and thick neck.

“He saved me…I’d…like to keep him, if that’s alright with everyone,” Gwen looked up, unsure. Morrigan rolled her eyes but didn’t quip or reject. Sten said nothing but urged to move on. Alistair and the wardens smiled and nodded, Leliana agreeing too. Nodding, Gwen stood and the hound followed close beside her.

“You’ll need to name him; the first name you give will be the one he responds to,” Jocelyn instructed; now that was something Gwen had to mull on. She never really had a pet before and all her family friends’ would give such poor and sappy names to their dogs. She wanted something easy to remember but something that spoke of the hound.

“Barghest,” the hound looked up, perking his ears at the sound of the name. “Yeah…Barghest.”

“Barghest? What kind of name is that?” Baldor asked, watching the hound bark and bound at his new name.

“Well, where I’m from, there is a myth of a great, black demon dog. It meant strength and ferocity,” Gwen explained.

“That seems a little…morbid,” Alistair quipped, watching the dog calm and walk by her side.

“Well, he did kill those darkspawn and protected me, showing he’s strong and capable against the Darkspawn,” Barghest barked, as if to agree with her as he nuzzled her hand. “And he seems to like it.”

“In the end, that is your choice,” Jocelyn smile, petting her own hound. “Sirius was named after the first star we both saw when he was a puppy.” Sirius, the older hound glued to her side, huffed in agreement, licking his mistress’ hand. Gwen smiled, walking with the older noble as the group moved on. Morrigan had taken to walking away from the hounds while Jocelyn, Leliana, Gwen and Cameron grouped together as they walked. Sten remained to himself while Alistair and Baldor chattered amongst themselves.

Soon it was getting dark, the last stretch to the Tower would be made tomorrow – by midday according to Alistair. Sten and Morrigan set up tents and small areas to themselves, away from the rest of the team. Gwen, once her own tent was set up, sat with Leliana and Jocelyn and their hounds. Alistair decided to cook tonight while Baldor was cracking into one of the many bottles of ale he had packed. How he packed so much was a mystery. Before they lost the rest of the day, Leliana suggested the women go bath before the men. Of course many of the men said no, Sten not saying much of anything while Alistair was more concerned with the broth he was tending to.

Leliana was nice enough to share her scented soaps and oils to Gwen as they came to a small secluded pond fed by Lake Calenhad. Using a small bush to undress with Barghest waiting patiently for her, she looked out to see Leliana and Jocelyn already on the pond bathing but Morrigan as well on the far side.

A ripple of self-consciousness rolled through, feeling exposed even among her own gender. They would be the first to see her entire body, covered in those glowing blue tattoos. Barghest, sensing her hesitation and distress, bumped her legs just enough to get her out from behind the bush. Unapologetic, she glared at the hound as he moved next to Sirius, laying down just on the pond bank away from the water. Sighing, Gwen walked to the edge and slipped in just as Leliana turned. Smiling, she waded over to Gwen and offered her soaps, moving behind her to help clean her back. Before she placed the soap to her back, she took in the intricacy and pattern of her tattoos.

“These markings, they are beautiful,” Leliana smiled, placing the soap on the woman’s back only to recoil as Gwen flinched. “Oh I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No no…it’s these…tattoos,” Gwen calmed her breathing, pushing through the pain to resume bathing. Leliana looked confused but watching her nod, she tried again. Using a gentler hand, Leliana lathered the soap in places Gwen couldn’t reach. But as she finished and handed the soup over to Gwen, she noticed something.

“What is this?” her soft hands cradled Gwen’s wrist, noting the number of scars left. They were deep, angry and spanned from her palms to her elbow. Jocelyn turned at her concerned gasp, wading over to see what had grabbed the Sister’s attention. Morrigan remained where she was, turning to shoot an interested gaze as the two women inspected her wrists. But what Morrigan saw, missed by Jocelyn and Leliana, was the annoyance and embarrassment flashing across Gwen’s face. Pulling her wrist back, she hid it from them behind her back.

“An…old injury, from when I was younger,” that was all she said, Gwen quickly finished washing before bolting from the pond. Barghest, surprised by her sudden finish, jumped from Sirius to follow her back behind the bush as she dried and changed. Jocelyn looked on concerned while Leliana felt confused and regretful. She hadn’t intended to be cruel or offensive. Morrigan, however, could see there was more to this.

Back in camp, turned away from the returning women, Gwen was already eating her share while throwing an old stick Barghest was adamant to chase after and bring back to her. Leliana, not bringing up the misunderstanding, collected her scented oils from her pack. Gwen’s hair had dried somewhat near the fire, making it the right condition to work the oils in.

“Gwen,” she turned her attention away from the embers, watching as she hid her wrists again. “These oils will help keep your hair clean, we might not be able to bath often…as I would like,” the small quip from the accented woman brought a smile back, albeit small, to Gwen. Happy with her achievement, Leliana knelt behind Gwen and worked the scented oil into her follicles, from scalp to ends. The sweet fragrance of lavender and cedar relaxed her, feeling Leliana play and braid her hair. One braid spanned her fringe, two smaller French braids ran the side of her scalp while a long braid hung down her back. The right side of her hair was left open and flowing. “This should help keep your hair out of your face while you fight.”

“Thanks Leliana,” Gwen smiled, but she could see she was still curious about what happened before. Gwen kept quiet. She had only known these people a day, she wasn’t about to spout her life story to them. What surprised her was Cameron coming to sit next to her. She hadn’t really taken the time to take in his otherworldly appearance. The only idea she had of elves were in fairy tales her mother used to read to her. Those the race seemed to be used without a care, jumping from elves within the tales of Tolkien to festive stories about elves making toys.

“Something the matter, Guinevere?” startled by the voice, she found Cameron was the one that spoke. Had she been staring at him? For too long? A small blush peppered her cheeks, turning away from her embarrassment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she apologised.

“Why were you staring?” Cameron pressed, turning to her fully.

“Well…I…” Gwen wondered what she could say, how she could say it? “I’ve never seen an elf before.” When in doubt, honesty. Gwen hadn’t been lying about her origins and no doubt Duncan had mentioned to the others she had suffered strange circumstances.

“Never? You can’t walk through any forest without tripping on a dalish,” Baldor scoffed, coming to sit on Gwen’s other side. Earning a side glare from Cameron.

“Well…before I explain, did Duncan mention anything about me? Regarding my origins?” Gwen asked, looking to the other wardens. She had noticed Sten turn slightly, his own interest or curiosity coming through. Leliana leant forward, her curiosity obvious. Morrigan seemed to have heard too, despite her distance from the main bonfire.

“Yes, Duncan did mention your circumstances were…strange. I was already at Ostegar when some of the other Wardens were still arriving, meeting with Duncan. When they arrived with you, injured and unconscious, he mentioned something about Magisters and a strange ritual.” Alistair explained, turning to the others to find them nodding. Duncan had mentioned the same thing to them.

“Well…the reason I’ve never met an elf before is…because there are none where I’m from,” the others paused, taking in what she had just said. “I can’t remember much, but the these Magisters apparently…took me from my world and brought me here.”

“But how can that be? That makes no sense,” Jocelyn leant forward, her sword and whetstone forgotten. “Are you saying you’re from the Fade?”

“Tis obvious what she means,” Morrigan chimed, having moved from her little camp to join the others. “What our young foreigner means is; she is from a world beyond the Fade. A world, no doubt, that borders the Fade as well but is separate from our own.” Gwen nodded.

“From what some of the other Grey Wardens could make of some diaries and log entries made, I was part of some experiment.” Gwen wasn’t sure how they would take this new information. As far as she was aware, none here were aware of the idea of multiple worlds.

“An experiment? For what purpose?” Jocelyn asked, but Gwen shook her head. She had no idea why they brought her here, why they had tried to reach across the Fade. Falling silent, feeling all eyes one her, the subject was dropped after the tension grew. Gwen remained to herself, enjoying her meal and watching as night watch duties were passed around. She was paired with Baldor on the first watch while the others went to bed; Alistair and Jocelyn would take the next.

“Are you feeling better?” Looking up from the fire, she turned to Baldor. He was fiddling with his axe, sharpening the blade head with a whetstone. Gwen wasn’t an expert on anything to do with weapons but the way the metal of the axe blade gleamed and swirled with lines and patterns was almost mesmerising.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright,” Gwen replied, realising she had been staring again. “Just…a lot to take in.” Baldor nodded, returning to his work while eyeing the tree line of the camp. Gwen peeked around her side, seeing nothing in the undergrowth to warn of any impending danger. Barghest hadn’t stirred from her side either; if anything was nearby and an enemy he would let them know. “H-how…how did you get into all of this?” She asked suddenly, not too sure why she had asked' no doubt the silence was just getting to her.

“Only fair. We were discussing your origins previous,” he smiled, edging a little closer. However, his hand disappeared behind him a moment before returning with another bottle of ale. “Gonna need a stiff drink to get through this one,” taking a quick swig, Baldor offered her the bottle. Gwen paused a moment, sure she wouldn’t be breaking any laws given her age but something about drinking when you’re on patrol didn’t seem right. “Come on, I can tell you’ve roughed it through life, and trust me, the grog helps.”

Not thinking, already feeling the surfacing emotions from her interaction with Leliana and Morrigan’s explanation, Gwen grabbed the bottle and took a long drag. Baldor seemed to approve, nodding his head and reclaimed his bottle.

“I came from the dwarven city of Orzammar, a place we’ll have to go to soon.” Gwen noticed the slight scorn in his tone, one that was quickly replaced with his story. “I had two brother, and my father was…an important noble.” Gwen listened intently, even edging closer in interest. “I was to take my first military commission, something that would bring me honour and standing among the other noble houses…were it not for a plot.” Baldor’s face turned grim, no doubt whatever happened had been the reason for bringing him to the wardens.

“It’s okay,” Gwen mused, turning his head to her. He hadn’t realised how close she had come. From across from him to sitting beside him, Baldor let a small smile through as he looked up to her.

“It’s fine,” he nodded, continuing his tale. “The day started out great! Settling arguments, dealing with rabble and unworthy ilk, dispatching enemies and consolidating allies. Such is the ways of the Dwarven Courts. However, I seemed to be butting my head with my brothers more than normal that day too.”

“I…wouldn’t know,” Gwen mused, turning Baldor back to her. “Only child.”

“Consider yourself lucky, my brother Trian was a thick headed golem and Bhelen was a scheming nug-licker. But it was after the celebration of my commission that I found which I should’ve trusted. On a mission into the Deep Roads, to reclaim the ancestral home of my family, but…Trian...” Baldor’s eyes dropped, turning a frown while downing a large gulp of brew. Gwen managed to reclaim it before he smacks himself silly with it. “My brother Bhelen killed him, I know it. And he framed me for his murder.”

Gwen gasped but remained quiet. She could tell this was hard for him to talk about, she wouldn't push him to talk or to stop. She knew things like this, it was better to let them run their course.

“It hit father hard. I was stripped of my house and my name stricken from the records. But instead of an execution, I was sentenced to fight in the Deep Roads until I either died, found the Legion or the Wardens. The latter found me, thus how I came to Duncan’s company,” Baldor sighed, pulling out another bottle to drown down. Gwen didn't say anything, she wanted to help him, even if they had essentially met not a few days ago. Shyly, she smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, in the hopes it would help. Baldor, turning to her hand then up to look at her, seeing her understanding gaze. He offered his own smile and placed his hand over hers.

In an instant, a loud rumble crossed the camp, causing the pair to jump. Baldor threw his bottle aside and raised his axe while Gwen froze, hands slowly reaching for her daggers but as suddenly as the noise came, it bellowed from behind, turning about to spot Alistair was awake. Gwen looked on concerned; his face was slightly pale, beads of sweat caking his brow and cheeks. Had he had a nightmare? Gwen moved to help him when both Cameron and Jocelyn jumped. Jocelyn looked ready to jump to her feet by how fast she rose, eyes wide with fright. Cameron just looked like someone had poked him in a rather sensitive place, looking around as if to find the one responsible.

“Guess our watch is over,” Baldor nodded, wobbling a little before turning to his own sleeping mat. Gwen could feel her own buzz from the alcohol, shaking it a moment to slip away to check on Morrigan, spying on her calm form in her tent. Sten as well as he resided further from the fire as well. He appeared to be meditating rather than sleeping, but he was alright and that was enough. Moving back to her sleeping mat, beside Leliana and Jocelyn, she turned back to Baldor as he smiled. “Sleep well, lass.”

“you too, Baldor,” She smiled, laying down as Baldor did while Jocelyn and Alistair took the next. Gwen easily fell asleep, if almost instantly despite the chattering going on between the other wardens. It may not have been all too comfortable, but she could manage.

* * *

 

Finally, they reached the other side of Lake Calenhad. A small tavern stood before the boat leading to the tower, but a Templar stood on the dock and another – a worn man in dampened clothes – no doubt the boatman standing off the side of his own small home.

Gwen had spent most of the trip trying to get to know the others Alistair, Cameron, Jocelyn and Baldor had recruited. Some more forward than others. She had spent the morning speaking with Leliana, learning more about the Orlesian lay sister. However now, approaching the only access to the Circle of Magi tower, she tried to speak with Sten. The hulking man wasn’t forth coming at first. However, she had asked what a ‘Qunari’ was – if it was a completely different species like the elves or dwarves or if it was race of humans in another land.

Sten had spent the better part of the hour answering her questions about the Qunari, the dynamics of the Qun and why he had come to Fereldan. He was much more forthcoming with such knowledge and to say it was interesting was an understatement to Gwen. She was even picking up some Qunari words.

“So Sten, what actually brought you here, to Ferelden?” Gwen chanced the question. The pair had been talking this entire time, had learnt a good deal of each other. He always seemed forlorn, worrying or mourning something. Though he seemed to take well to Barghest, petting the dolting hound.

“As a member of the Beresaad, I am to answer the question of the Arishok. What is the Blight? That is why I am here,” Sten nodded.

“Don’t you have to report back then?” Gwen noticed he became forlorn, drawing back. “Sorry, I-I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes,” Gwen looked up, watching Sten take no offence in her question.

“When will you do that?”

“Never. I cannot go home,” Gwen looked surprised, he had just said he had to answer the Arishok’s question about the Blight, that as a Beresaad it was his duty to follow. Why would he not fulfil his mission?

“I…I’m sorry,” Sten then looked up, his eyes staring back at her and, with a small twitch, a feint smile held his face a brief moment before falling again.

“Thank you.” Suddenly, the Qunari saw something and walked off. Gwen, confused he just left mid-sentence. Looking back to see the others still waiting for Alistair and Jocelyn to come back, she followed.

“Hey! Where are ya going?” jumping at the sudden voice, Gwen turned to find Baldor behind her.

“Sten was acting strange. We were talking then he got up and walked away,” turning to find the Qunari, she spotted him back atop the slop leading to the Inn. He seemed to be talking within someone.

“Must’ve been about his sword,” Baldor remarked, confusing Gwen. “Eh, I found a few things I thought might make him more receptive here, make him quit his moping. Then when I asked him why he was in that bloody cage we found him in, ya couldn’t stop him from talking,” turning with Gwen, they both watched him argue with the man there. “Something about a weak mind being a dangerous thing. Apparently he and his men were ambushed around here, lost his sword and was found by some farmer. He panicked and killed them all.”

Gwen gasped. She knew Sten was strong and skilled with a greatsword but to kill a family who helped him?

“He mourns though, but there was something about him being killed if he went back home without it,” Baldor turned back to Gwen, seeing the conflicting emotions and feelings rush through her. She was just too easy to read, and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Come on, we better make sure he doesn’t kill someone else.”

Gwen, pulled from her stupor, watched Baldor lead. Shaking her head, she quickly caught up. For a man half her size in full armour, he could move pretty quick.

“That don’t matter none to you. I’m an honest businessman,” looking up, Gwen could tell this man was lying. Covered in dirt, grime and what looked like…viscera. Shaking her nausea, Sten looked about ready to kill. “I wasn’t bothering nobody. And I was here first.”

“My beresaad brothers died here, and now you desecrate their corpses,” the qunari growled, his hand hovering over the handle of his blade.

“N-now now now there mate,” the man shook, now scared by the angered foreigner.

“Sten wait,” Gwen jumped in, turning his glare from the man to her. “Maybe…he might know where your sword is.”

“This _Bas Dathras_ help us? I highly doubt,” Sten growled, keeping his hand on his weapon. “He cares nothing for the dead, just picks at scraps like vermin.”

“Even vermin can retrace his steps,” Baldor argued, coming up to the vagrant. “So what do you say, my friend. Seen our angry friend’s sword? Or who might know where?”

“Please ser,” Gwen added, standing between the man and Sten. “It means a lot to our friend, anything you can tell us can help.”

“Look, I got swindled too. I knew the guy who was here before me; sold me this spot. I didn’t know he had picked it clean!” the man rambled, shaking at the sight of Sten. “H-he’s name’s Faryn. Squirrelly little bastard, he said he was going to set up shop outside of Orzammar. T-that’s all I know, I swear.”

“Well then, thank you good ser,” Baldor smiled, grabbing the man by his collar, “And maybe, you can take a note from this and _not_ root around the dead. Now git lost, ya nug-licker.” Baldor turned the man around and, quite eloquently, kicked him in the backside.

“Um…was that necessary?” Gwen asked.

“No, but it felt good,” Baldor shrugged, seemingly unfazed and uncaring for the man’s wellbeing, turned back to the lake. Gwen was left confused, watching Sten move too. Sighing, shaking her confusion, she moved back with them just as Alistair returned.

“Well, it would seem the Templars have sealed off the tower because of demons,” Alistair sighed. Gwen froze. Demons? Like the one who had tried to… She shifted her hand, as if to grasp the ghostly hand Prue placed on her shoulder. It gave her a little courage but it was still daunting. “We’re going to have to convince the new ferryman to take us across.”

“They do realise there is a Blight rising?” Cameron asked, standing off to the side.

“Demons running rampant unchecked could be just as bad as the Blight,” Jocelyn argued. “Enemies at out front _and_ back would make things worse. The sooner we get matters here sorted, the sooner we can gain the support against the Blight.”

“And we cannot leave them to this fate, there must be some way we can help them,” Leliana argued, trying to rile the others.

“We also need them mages to help the Arl right?” Baldor added. “Would be pretty bad to have walked all this way only to go back empty handed.”

“Leave them to their fates, we must focus on the Blight,” Sten argued, staying stern among them.

“Indeed. Leave them to their faults and let us be on our way. The blood mage did offer an alternative to helping the boy, if you still wish to save the child,” Morrigan agreed, crossing her arms.

“Unfortunately, I must concur with Morrigan,” Cameron sighed, holding his staff. “These Circle mages know nothing of the true dynamics and laws of the Fade. It is any wonder this has not occurred before now. We must focus on the greater threat.”

“No,” Jocelyn stood, glaring at the witch and the Qunari. “We swore to bring the mages to save Connor. We are not resulting to Blood magic nor are we going to abandon these people.”

“I say we vote,” Baldor piped in, looking between the arguing humans. “Those in favour of saving the circle,” Leliana, Alistair and Jocelyn raised their hands. “Alright, those against?” Morrigan, Sten begrudgingly and Cameron raised their hands.

“Wait, why didn’t you vote?” Alistair called attention to Baldor.

“There’s an even number of us, besides someone needs to mediate this so…” all eyes turned to Gwen, she had yet to raise a hand as to whether they save the mages or not. How could she vote? This wasn’t her people, her world. Why would her voice have weight?

“So, what shall it be?” Morrigan asked, her words smooth as silk, as if the sweet bait weaving her words would temp her to their side.

“ _It’s your choice_ ” Prue appeared beside her, placing her arms around Gwen’s neck and shoulders. Head resting on hers, Prue calmed her nerves and quelled her anxiety.

“We…we should help them,” Gwen looked to each of her group, she could see the few smile while other frowned. “We’re Grey Wardens right? There may be a Blight and we need to face it, but the Blight affects everyone. We’re here to conscript the mages so they can help in the fight, so they can show they are just as much a part of this as any.”

“Well said,” Alistair smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“A waste of time,” Sten muttered, but he didn’t argue any further. He had nodded when Gwen stated their roles as Grey Wardens though Morrigan was still skeptical.

“Honestly Lass,” Baldor caught Gwen’s arm, turning her back and falling behind the others. “I was hoping you’d side with blonde and the others,” Baldor’s omission was certainly a surprise since he did say he was a mediator. “I’ve always wanted to see where these hoity-toity mages live and what exactly magic is.” Her confused was met with his own knowing gaze. “Dwarves can’t use magic, since we work so close with lyrium we’re immune. Doesn't mean we don't wonder.”


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

Gwen still pondered how they had managed to get across the lake. The Templar standing guard, a dim man by the name of Carroll, had explicitly stated his superior officer had banned all visitors and any wishing to travel to the tower from reaching it. Jocelyn, in her own guile and wile, had convinced the man they required to speak to his superior personally, to clear up any misunderstanding. And the man had allowed it!

Gwen had shot a glance at Alistair, her eyes asking the question she wanted to voice but however could not since the subject was standing ready on the boat. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and lay his head in shame. She was sure not all Templars were like this Carroll given how Alistair acted most times and when serious, but how could one be so dim as this?

Stepping off the boat to the tower’s pier, the moment Gwen stepped upon the small man-made island, her markings flared. Gasping, her body crumbled and collapsed fast. Baldor managed to keep her from slamming her head into the ground. Gwen shook and tried to breath, the markings screaming in heat and chilled where Baldor touched them.

Alistair jumped, Leliana moving close behind as she tried to tend to the woman. “What happened?”

“T-they…they’re burning…”

Morrigan quirked a brow, gliding close and leant down over her. Jocelyn, a swelling of protection for her fellow rogue blooming and urging her to keep the witch away, paused to watch Morrigan’s hand light up with mana. The Witch of the Wilds roamed her hand over Gwen’s tattoos, ignoring his hisses and gasps, watching as she slowed her gasps and relaxed.

“Tis the lyrium of course. It seems to be reacting to whatever is occurring here,” she mused, standing back as Alistair helped Baldor get Gwen to her feet. Morrgian pointed, most turning to see some exposed tattoos were giving off a faint glow. “No doubt the presence of demons or beings of the fade. The more malevolent the form, the more painful the burn.”

“Not unlike _Somniari_ ,” Cameron pondered, taking a moment to think. He seemed aware of the confusion brought by the elvhen word and merely sighed. “You would know them as Dreamers; Mages capable of entering the Fade at will, without the aid of Lyrium,” the realisation shifted Gwen; that would explain how she was able to jump between blue skies and green. It must’ve been the Fade she was jumping between. The soft hum in the back of her mind from Prue made the suspicion true. “It would also explain her sensitivities. Dreamers are particularly sensitive to demons.”

 

Baldor looked concerned, his larger hand cradling hers. “You alright lass?”

Gwen moaned, holding her head but managed to give a gentle nod. Leliana offered a small poultice to help regain her strength. Feeling the red liquid coat her throat and fill her stomach, it chilled the burning caused by the lyrium. It was only a band aid though, she could feel the sting and burn returning. It had caught her off at first but now it felt like her body had been burned. She caught herself from sighing, relaxing to the sensation. As much as she didn’t like the feeling, her mind and body visibly relaxed. Baldor, noticing her relaxing, gripped her hand tighter, drawing her attention back.

“Perhap you should sit this out, lass.”

“I agree with the dwarf,” Sten stepped forward, looking her over. “If demons are our quarry, one affected by lyrium will only hinder us.”

“N-no, no I’m fine now,” Gwen hissed, ignoring the strain gripping her limbs. “It…it was just sudden. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Gwen,” Jocelyn stepped forward. “If you’re hurt, don’t try and play off that you’re not. We don’t need you crippling yourself over nothing.” Her eyes were stern but showed her concern. She wasn’t trying to be mean but the situation demanded a level of caution. Gwen, however, did not pick up on this, feeling insulted by one of the few she had befriended here questioning her abilities.

“No, really I’m fine,” she argued, pushing back the stinging and walked ahead of the group. “Let’s…just help these mages and save the Arl’s son.” She refused to look at them. Refused to meet Jocelyn’s disapproving stare, Sten’s annoyed glare, Leliana and Alistair’s concern, Baldor’s worry or the interested gaze from Cameron and Morrigan. These…nuisance tattoos were not going to stop her. A swelling of resolved pushed any fear or doubt she had. She didn’t want to be the simpering damsel. If this was going to happen the longer she was here, then better to have something to distract her from the pain than remain behind, worried and fearful, with only the pain to keep her company. She wasn’t about to let that part of her life repeat again.

Stepping into the looming tower, ignoring the strange throbbing of her tattoos, the group pushed on with Carroll toward his commanding officer; Knight Commander Greagoir. As they came to stand before him, Gwen allowing Jocelyn, Alistair and Cameron to take point, she remained back with Leliana and Baldor. Leliana was concerned with her seemingly profuse sweating. Gwen assured her she was fine but neither believed her.

“Now, we wait and pray,” Greagoir mused, turning to the group of wardens. He didn’t seem surprised seeing Alistair and Jocelyn, but his eyes turned questioningly at Sten, Baldor and Cameron. “And who are you? I explicitly told Carroll not to bring anyone across the lake.” He questioned, a slight mumble under his breath about disciplining Carroll for his ineptitude in guarding a simple dock.

“We’re the last of the Grey Wardens, Knight-Commander,” Alistair stood forward, even saluting the temple. Gwen couldn't help but notice Morrigan roll her eyes. “You’re Greagoir, I presume.”

“That hardly matters,” Greagoir huffed, unimpressed by the ragtag group. “We are dealing with a very delicate situation. You must leave, for your own safety.”

“Unfortunately we can’t,” Jocelyn stepped forward. Gwen recalled Jocelyn having an adamant respect for the Templars, however with this situation that respect seemed to be put aside for the matter at hand. “The Mages have an obligation to uphold to the Grey Wardens, in addition to our need of their help. Arl Eamon’s son is possessed; we need them to help him.”

“As weary as I am of the Grey Warden’s ceaseless need for me to fight the darkspawn, the Arl’s son’s condition is more concerning,” Gwen was glad the Knight-Commander was considering to help them. But turning to the group, she could see tensions were already starting to rise. While Jocelyn and Alistair controlled the conversation, Gwen could see Morrigan and Cameron were both annoyed by the state of the tower and the mages as well as on edge from the number of Templars staring at them. The looks in their eyes were cold and could be called cruel with the way some turned glares rather than stares. Sten remain planted where he was but the rising annoyance from inaction was building rather than an annoyance of the situation. Baldor and Leliana, unlike the others, remained undeterred. Leliana whispered prayers under her breath and hoped for help while Baldor rubbed the hilt of his axe, waiting to pull the weapon to the ready.

Gwen was unsure of the entire ordeal. Her mind remained focused on pushing past the burning pain radiating from her tattoos. A sudden chill washed over her, Prue suddenly appeared beside her and calmed her aches.

“ _Be careful here, Guinevere. The Fade bleeds through, it clings with a death grip._ ” Sparing a small nod, acknowledging her without hinting to the others.

“I’m afraid you will find no allies here,” Greagoir’s words brought Gwen’s attention back. “The Templars can spare no men, and the mages are…indisposed. I shall speak plainly: The tower is no longer under our control,” he walked forward, coming to the large barred doors leading into the tower proper. “Abominations and demons stalk the tower’s halls. The Circle is lost. The tower has fallen.”

“But…” Her words slipped out, turning attention to her. Gwen shifted under their gaze before regaining composure. “Their might still be innocent people in there. You’d just lock them in? Why not save them?”

“You mustn’t have much contact with mages, young lady,” Greagoir sighed, looking to the door. “Our orders are to contain the breach and spread of demonic presences. There may be some left untouched but those now possessed can be brilliant actors. I am afraid we can do little else than seal and contain.”

“Then how did this happen?” Baldor asked, sneaking a comforting touch to Gwen’s hand. She found the touch surprising but not unwanted. The dwarven prince cast a quick wink, allaying her fears.

“We don’t know,” Greagoir admitted, turning to his injured men in a small infirmary space they had set aside for the wounded. “We saw only demons; hunting Templars and mages alike. I realised we could not defeat them and told my men to flee.”

“The perhaps we can help,” Baldor added, crossing his arms in a strange calm. “We need the Mages; you need help with demons; who I can assume are just as frightful as dark spawn – something we Wardens are experts in.”

“I have already sent word to Denerim,” the Commander rebutted, turning Baldor’s calm to annoyance. “Word calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment.” Gwen looked on confused, having never heard of the term before but Prue’s sudden shiver told of its height toward the situations.

“Right of Annulment? What does that mean?” Greagoir watched Gwen closely, his trained eyes seemingly seeing something that he either found concerning or confusing to him.

“The Right of Annulment gives Templars the authority to neutralise the mage Circle. Completely.” Gwen gasped, shocked and fearful of such an order. They would seriously kill innocence as well as the infected just to ensure the tower was safe?

“The mages are probably already dead,” Alistair was solemn with his words, seeing already many in the group disagreed with him. “Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what.”

“Hardly,” Cameron had stepped forward, glaring at Alistair and the Templars present. “Mages are just as capable of staving off a demons’ advances just as demons can possess them. There may still be those untouched and in control. You would seriously make no attempt to save them?”

“Save your breath,” Morrigan quipped. “These Templars are nothing but magic-fearing bigots. Easier to say all have changed than attempt to save a few, tis it not?”

“We as wasting time here. If the mages are lost to us we should move on,” Sten growled.

“Is there no real way to save anyone in the circle?” Leliana hoped.

“This situation is dire,” Greagoir silenced the concerns and chatting of the group, turning them back. “There is no alternative; everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again.”

“But there must be another way,” Gwen stepped forward, pushing the already tried commander.

“If there was, do you not think I would have chosen it?” his quip tightened Gwen’s heart. The very idea they were so willing to kill everyone just to be sure the few abominations were dealt with. Was this the prejudice Wynne had told her about? “There are only abominations left in the tower.”

“But how can you be sure?” Gwen pushed, Jocelyn placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her, a firm squeeze to drop the issue.

“No one could have survived those monstrous creatures, child,” Greagoir’s anger and annoyance turned to despair and grief. “It is too painful to hope for survivors and find…nothing.”

“Then, let us look,” the group to Baldor, most confused by his suggestion, others either indifferent or intrigued. “We’re here to get mages, they’re in the tower. Helping who is left is the right thing to do.” Most turned to agree, either to proceed rather than stand idle or to grasp the hope of survivors and help them. Gwen couldn’t help but smile to the dwarf, he had felt the same and wanted to help. The dwarf, in-turn, shot another sly wink to her before the Commander sighed in defeat.

“A word of caution,” gesturing to the door as he men moved to open the large bolted doors. “Once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe.”

“What proof will persuade you?” Jocelyn asked, moving with the group through the door.

“I will only believe it is over if the First Enchanter stand before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed.” Given their answer and target, the rag-tag group passed the doors and were sealed in.

“May Andraste lend you her courage, whatever you decide.”

* * *

 

Walking into the tower had been worse than Gwen had anticipated. Bodies of Templars and mages littered the halls, blood painting walls and staining floors. The tingling in her tattoos worsened to the point of constant stinging. It took almost all she could muster not to scratch or rub her arms or sides. Jocelyn took a few steps back, coming to step in time with Gwen.

“How are you holding up?” She noted the strain Gwen was placing on herself not to itch or flint.

“It’s getting worse. But I can handle it,” Gwen’s smile appeared pained, she was obviously in more pain than she was letting on. Jocelyn didn't accept her response, offering a small poultice. “Dawn Lotus and Elfroot. Should help with dulling the pain.”

“Thanks,” Gwen took the potion gladly, sipping slowing and feeling the effects take hold. The stinging rolled back to a small tingling but the feeling persisted despite the potion’s effects. Barghest whimpered, licking her to aid reassuring his mistress. A thankful scratch behind his ears as his reward, Gwen picked up her pace.

Coming to a door at the end of the hallway, stirring clear of the board rooms some more unfortunate apprentices lay dead, loud crashes and rumbles echoed from the door. Bursting through to aid anyway they could, the group stopped as one of the mages attacked a rising burning demon. Spinning her staff and conjuring ice from out of the air, the demon fell and disappeared.

Not before Gwen almost doubled over in pain. The very presence of the demon and its now fading form snapped a pulse of pain through her veins despite the potion she had drunk not five minutes before.

Noticing their presence, the Mage turned to address them. Gwen, having compelled her legs to support herself again, with help from Barghest and Leliana, she gasped at seeing who this Mage was.

“It’s you!” It was Wynne! Gwen couldn’t believe her eyes. She had known some of the mages at Ostegar had fled the field when the King fell but she didn’t know who had survived. “No, come no further. Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand!”

“Wynne!” Gwen broke from the group, before Alistair could step forward and explain what had happened, coming before the woman with smiles and tears. “You survived! Oh thank goodness!”

“Gwen?” Wynne was just as surprised as she was to find the woman alive, both had taken a moment to take in the realisation before embracing. Gwen, through all that had happened, was so pleased to find at least someone she knew from Ostegar alive, aside from Cailan. “Oh my dear, thank the Maker you’re alive.”

“You too.” Gwen swallowed her words when Alistair cleared his throat, Jocelyn and himself stepping forward. “S-sorry. Wynne was at Ostegar with the other mages. She’s a friend.”

“And I wish our reunion were under calmer circumstances, my dear,” Wynne sighed, turning to the group. “I am well aware you are Grey Wardens. Why did the Templars let you through?”

“Are Emon’s son is possessed,” Jocelyn stepped forward. “He is a Mage and accidentally called forth a demon from the Fade. We need mages to save him.”

“Ah, I see. I’m afraid any who still live are trapped further within the tower, or are already dead.” Wynne turned to the small group with her. Four others, all armed with staves, while a small group of children stood with them. “I managed to save a few apprentices and the children, but we had to seal the door to prevent more demons from coming through.”

“What happened here exactly, the Knight-Commander only gave us scarce details.” Alistair asked, standing next Jocelyn.

“Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by a mage named Uldread. When he returned from the battle at Ostegar, he tried to take over the Circle. As you can see, it didn’t work out as he had planned. I don’t know what become of Uldred, but I am certain all this is his doing. I will not lose the Circle to one man’s pride and stupidity.” Wynne glanced over to the barrier in thought. “I erected a barrier over the door, leading to the rest of the tower. So nothing from inside could attack the children.” Making up her mind, nodding to herself, she presented before the group. “You will not be able to enter the tower so long as the barrier holds. But I would dispel it if you’d join with me to save the circle.”

“ _Pashera_ we linger too long here. If the mages are plagued with demons then leave them,” Sten growled, frustrated with the whole ordeal.

“I must agree with the Qunari,” Morrigan drawled, looking at the other apprentices with disdain. “You want us to assist this preachy school mistress? To rescue these pathetic excuses for mages?”

“But we can’t just leave them, surely there are those still alive and need aid,” Leliana was shocked by the very idea of leaving the mages to their fate, moving to scold the witch and Qunari.

“But they make valid points. They allow themselves to be corralled like cattle. Now their masters have chosen death for them. I say let them have it.” Cameron came to stand by Morrigan, sharing her view.

“Abominations or no, we must stabilise this circle if we are to aid the Arl. Even if we must use the Rite of Annulment then so be it, but to allow these demons to roam would be worse than doing nothing.” Jocelyn joined in the arguing, all stating a different view by aiming for the same goal. Gwen could tell who wanted to help to those who wanted to leave. They couldn’t either way in any case. So why argue?

“Looks like it’s another tie breaker,” Baldor sighed, standing beside her. “All this bickering is like the council back in Orzammar.” Humming, he watched Gwen. He could tell her tattoos were bothering her but the arguing was bothering her more. How was it a group determined and sharing the same goal as beating the Blight and helping the people of Thedas be so inclined to argue what is right or wrong?

“W-wait,” she tried to make her voice carry over the group but to no avail. The arguing grew to the point of near insanity, her tattoos making it no easier as they swelled and bloomed with heat and pain. “SHUT UP!!”

Gwen’s voice echoed as if a shockwave leaped from her mouth, it’s effect pushing some back. A child or two almost stumbled from the power behind her words.

“Stop arguing like a bunch of immature brats already!” she hissed, the anger and anxiety having bubbling up and over the edge of her mind. “We’re here to help these people! If they’re dead, they’re dead. If they’re possessed, then that’s it. If some are alive, we’ll help them!” Ragged breath shot back and forth from her lips, trying to calm the racing beat of her heart. She hadn’t done that in a long time. Long before this waking nightmare had started. A hand grasping her arm caused her to jump, looking down to find Baldor holding her.

“It’s alright, Lass. Calm down,” he wasn’t chiding but soothing, his words helping her calm herself.

Nodding she was fine, Gwen approached the group with a clear head. “Look, we all came here hoping to find the Mages, to help the Arl’s son. We can’t keep arguing like this.” She turned to Morrigan, Cameron, and Sten. “And if you don’t want to be here because you disagree, then leave. No one is forcing you to be here; you’re here by your own free will.”

Taking another deep breath, she then turned to Alistair, Jocelyn, and Leland. “But we’re not just here to help the mages. We’re here to stop the Blight. I may not know much, but I know we can’t fight and the Blight at the same time. But we will do what we can. No matter the outcome.”

“Then it’s settled. Anyone who wants to stay, can stay. Everyone else, follow Wynne into the tower,” everyone agreed, the Mabari barking in chorus. Gwen then took a moment. She had never raised her voice like that before. Usually she just bottled everything up and rarely let it out unless… well she had methods for that but today, she just couldn’t hold it back.

“You should do that more often, Lass,” Baldor grinned, nudging her side. “You’re a natural.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” she huffed, more embarrassed than insulted. Turning her attention back to the group, she was surprised that everyone had decided to move forward. Jocelyn, however, ordered Sirius to stay and guard the children and mage apprentices. It didn’t seem to hurt so Gwen had ordered the same of Barghest.

“Don’t let any demons hurt the children, protect them like you protected me. Okay?” the Mabari yipped, whining she had to leave but took his post by Sirius.

Ready to go, Gwen noticed Wynne talking to two of her apprentices. She overheard one mentioning an attack, of Wynne being injured. She had brushed it off but Gwen grew concerned. Yes, Wynne was a much older woman but she had the spryness of a young woman. Her health, however, given the nature of the attack still made her worry.

When everyone was ready, Wynne weaved her magic and the barrier fell. Walking through, Gwen could feel her tattoos reacting again, much like they had with the demon before. It wasn’t as strong though, maybe something else was causing this.

Confirming her theory, walking into the next room – a large, extensive library – the group came upon abominations. Swelled, bloated, shambling beings these abominations where. Barely covered by the remains of their robes, magic practically swelled around them. Gwen recalled her training, taking her daggers and targeting an abomination. She learnt early on not to let any of them touch her; touching them caused the lyrium within her to pulse harshly, as if it were reacting with their corruption. She had almost doubled over in pain when one grabbed her arm, but in a feat of surprise – her mind screaming for the abomination to release her – a wave shot out from her, all magic in the immediate area seemingly vanishing. It surprised Cameron, as he was the closest to her and trying to cast a fireball spell. The fire wisped and faded away as the blast caught him. The abomination, however, was thrown from her, allowing Gwen to take it out.

“Everyone okay?!” Jocelyn called from the other side of the library, each member calling out.

“How did you do that?” Cameron asked, helping Gwen to her feet while noting the small hisses she made from his touch. “You can dispel magic?”

“I…I can?” she asked, unsure of what had happened. “I… didn’t know I could.”

“Useful, given our circumstances. Though if you feel the same sensation like this again, call out a warning, it appears to affect our magic too.”

“Oh sorry,” Cameron smiled, shaking his head. He might not have been chiding Gwen but it still felt like he was.

“There is no need. But remember, a warning should you feel the sensation rise again,” nodding, Gwen turned with him to catch up with the others. She, however, paused as she noticed Morrigan rummaging through some old books in a corner.

“Morrigan? Did you lose something?” approaching the woman, she paused a moment in thought.

“I cannot see how it is your concern?” she muttered, not chiding or snarky, more or less out of sorts trying to find whatever she was searching for.

“Morrigan, I want to help,” Gwen turned the witch to her, noting she was still searching for whatever it is she was looking for. “Since the Wilds, you’ve gone out of your way to help us. Despite your own reservations. The least I could do is return that kindness.”

“Kindness?” she turned back to Gwen, but instead of speaking what she was going to say, she paused a moment in thought. “Then I suppose…” making up her mind, she turned to Gwen fully. “My mother was once divested of a particular grimoire by a most annoying Templar hunter. It occurred long before I was born, but even today Flemeth speak of the loss with great rage,” Gwen nodded, coming to understand what Morrigan was searching for.

“And you think it’s here, in the Circle?” confirming her theory, Morrigan agreed.

“With the Circle of Magi in such disarray, it occurs to me that this might be the perfect time to recover the tome from their possession, for surely it eventually ended up in their hands.” Gwen thought a moment, knowing such a powerful tome might not be in an area frequented by training minds.

“I’ll help you look, but I doubt it would be here. Maybe in the higher levels?” she suggested, Morrigan pondering a moment before nodding.

“Indeed. Such a possession would be restricted if not forbidden.”

Moving back to the group, they pressed on. Passing the library and working their way to the next level of the tower. The tower grew colder the higher they climbed, coming to an open area, a small alcove was nothing but ash and burnt wood. Movement caught their eyes, brandishing weapons as the figure moved into the light.

“Please, refrain from going into the stockroom.” It was another mage, but he seemed different from the others. His monotone drone and the emblazed scar of the Chantry sun on his forehead showed he was a mage made Tranquil. A shiver rolled down Gwen’s spine; she could never get used them. “It is a mess and I have not been able to get it into a state fit to be seen.”

“What are you doing here?” Cameron asked, his eyes scanning the tranquil mage in a mix of pity and distain. How anyone could allow themselves to be placed in a state like this deserved little pity, and yet he knew full well the cause for all this was the Templars and their binding laws against mages.

“I was trying to tidy up, but there was little I could do,” the simple man replied, even going as far as to try and clean the mess around him.

“Don’t you want to get out of here?” Jocelyn asked, showing her own concern for the changed mage. “There are other survivors down in the main hall.”

“I tried to leave, when things got quiet. That was when I encountered the barrier. Finding no other way out, I returned to work.” It was almost shocking how even a tranquil mage reacted to almost nothing around him. As if the very gravity of the situation caused him little distress. Emotions stripped or not, all had a survival instinct and acted on it. This man appeared to have little of any.

“Owain, you should have said something!” Wynne chided, but not as if to scold a man but to chid a child for doing something silly. “I would have opened the door for you.”

“The stockroom is familiar. I prefer to stay here,” turning away from his cleaning, Owain paused a moment before turning to his company. “I would prefer not to die. I would prefer it if the tower returned to the way it was. Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all.”

“Niall? Who the gobshite is Niall?” Baldor’s gruff gave hint to his growing boredom. Gwen could see that standing around and talking wasn’t the strong suit of some in their group, but maybe this might lead to something.

“Wait, what was Niall trying to succeed at?” Gwen asked, hoping it would offer some possibility of an advantage.

“I do not know, but he came here with several other, and took the Litany of Adralla.”

“But that protects from mind domination,” Wynne turned their attention back, address Owain directly. “Is blood magic at work here?” Owain shook his head, he didn’t know it there was such magic at work or not.

Gwen recalled one of Wynne’s lessons regarding magic. That blood magic was derived from blood and could allow limitless potential but it costed the life of its user, unless the blood came from elsewhere. To her, it sounded more like Black magic, from fairy tales like King Arthur or Sleeping Beauty.

“Niall was in the meeting,” Gwen snapped from her thought back to Wynne, pondering her own thoughts. “He would know. Blood magic… I was afraid of this.”

“We’ll be able to handle this, ma’am,” Baldor huffed, gripping his axe handle in anticipation. “Just point the way.”

“We should final Niall. The Litany will give us a fighting chance again any blood mages we encounter,” Wynne nodded, curious to the name the dwarf had given her. Coming to a decision, the group moved on to the next set of stairs leading higher into the tower.

“I wish you luck,” Gwen paused, turning to Owain. “Perhaps this will be over soon and things will return to the way they were. Goodbye.”

* * *

 

Moving through to th next rooms, Gwen had met her first Blood mage. Or rather, Blood mages. A small group shuffled a small library off the main hall near Owain and the Stockroom. They were arguing in hushed whispers while, no doubt, hiding from the demons and abominations roaming the halls. The small group had been easily over-powered by the large group of nine.

Having dodged a spell, Gwen gasped as the sensation of magic just brushed her tattoos, the angry flare of pain rising again as it to meet it. However, this time it changed a slight degree. As the spell flew past her, she noted some of the magic had slipped into her tattoos. Like water flowing into a crack in stone. The spell shrank as it passed before hitting the wall behind her at half strength. Confused, looking at her arm, she noticed her tattoos held their glow longer than normal before dulling out, her own strength suddenly felt restored.

Strange.

“Please, please don’t kill me.”

Looking up, Gwen gasped as Jocelyn held her blade to a downed blood mage. She held her side as more blood pooled. Blood slipped past her lips showing her injuries.

“Maker show you mercy, Maleficar, for you will find none here,” it was surprising seeing Jocelyn glare so dark and undaunted by the act she was about to commit. Sure she had seen Jocelyn kill Darkspawn and the abominations leading to this. This was a mage, beaten and no doubt dying to begin with, but Jocelyn still held the intent to kill one who is unarmed and defenceless.

“I know I have no right to ask for mercy, but I didn’t mean for this death and destruction. We were just trying to free ourselves,” the mage’s pleading tugged Gwen’s heart. Were they just victims too? “Uldred told us that the Circle would support Loghain and Loghain would help us be free of the Chantry. You don’t know what it was like; the Templars were watching, always watching…” her simpering and pleading worked its way into Gwen, was her plight not something to hold against her? She had no chance to deter this way of life. Was that really enough to condemn her?

“Then you should have expressed your concern to the Chantry,” Jocelyn hissed, biting the suggestion as if she hadn’t wished to say it. “Instead you turned to forbidden magics, resulting in the deaths of innocents.”

“Talking to the Chantry would be like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall that would rather you didn’t exist in the first place,” the mage, her fear growing with the gleaming glint of steel nearing her neck, scrambling back away from Jocelyn. “We thought… someone always has to take the first step. Force a change, no matter the cost.”

“Innocent lives are hardly worth this selfish cost,” Jocelyn raised her blade, only for Alistair to hold her arm, calming the touched nerve this mage had incited.

“She is correct,” Wynne stepped forward, looking to Alistair as he managed to calm Jocelyn. “Nothing is worth what you’ve done to this place.”

“And now Uldred’s gone mad, and we are scattered, doomed to die at the hands of those who seek to right our wrongs…” the mage struggled to breath, but somehow managing the strength to pull what little she had left, and healed some of her wounds; easing the tension on her chest.

“So now all you do is wallow in self-pity? Pathetic,” Jocelyn spat, glaring at the woman.

“What else can I do? I’m trapped here.” Jocelyn’s raged flared again, her strides guiding her forward and, to the mage’s shock and fear, drove her blade deep into her chest.

“Then die with some dignity,” the mage had no time to beg, no time to speak before she crumpled to the floor, dead. The room fell silent, Gwen in complete shock. The woman, mage or not, had no way of defending herself nor any means of harming them. Why not leave her here? Why not move on or even help her? They knew nothing of her intentions here, nor how deeply committed she was to Uldred, couldn’t all of this have been avoided?

“Let’s move on, the longer we tarry the less likely Irving will be alive,” Jocelyn moved them all on, some remaining silent while most showed no care. Wynne, however, had noticed Gwen’s shock.

“Come along, my dear,” she cooed, helping Gwen to her feet.

“Did…did it have to happen like this?” Wynne knew the question would come. She knew that Gwen had only seen the interaction mages had at Ostegar, when the king had asked for their aid and never saw the conflict between the Templars until now. Nor had she seen Blood magic nor its repercussions of use. “Did she have to die?”

“Perhaps, but regardless the use of Blood magic, even acquiring the knowledge of it, is forbidden for good reason. She would’ve opened herself to possession, it would’ve led to more deaths,” turning Gwen to her, she could see the shock pulling back, seeing the realisation settling in. “This was the least we could’ve done, the Templars would not have been so merciful, I fear.”

Gwen, though her own reservations preventing her from fully understanding, nodded. Their persecutions here weren’t unlike the Salem Witch trials back home. The horror committed by those found guilty were horrific, all in the name of religion. Passing a statue, Gwen questions how the Chantry, whom followed a woman of renown and aiding the people, both magically inclined and oppressed, would commit to the same atrocities as their prophetess’ enemies. The brew pit of hatred she had for religion slowly grew wider, reaffirming her own beliefs.

They pushed on further regardless, coming across more abominations and more demons. Shambling corpses, rotting and stinking like zombies, shuffling about the other rooms. Splitting up to cover more ground, they had come across another mage trapped outside the barrier, hiding in a wardrobe. Finding it safer to leave him there until this all was over, they regrouped and followed the path to the next tower level.

Gwen had to stop a moment to catch her breath, the pain from her tattoos were wearing her down, causing her to trip up and only just dodge oncoming attacks.

“You alright, lass?” Baldor was at her side, offering her water from his waterskin.

“It’s…it’s getting worse, we’re getting closer to something and it’s making my tattoos burn and ache,” she gasped but grateful for the cool water. She could feel it slide down her throat, pooling in her chest before moving down to cool her stomach.

“Must be bad if it’s giving you this much grief,” Baldor sighed, looking to the group. “Do you want to go back? No one would think less of you if the lyrium is hampering you.”

“No, I want to stay. Pain or no, we need to help the mages,” handing back the skin, Baldor held a moment longer with a thoughtful look before turning away. Confusing, Gwen wondered what that look was for. Regardless, the urge to press on to the tower’s peak pushed the thought aside to move on.

Moving through the last remaining rooms, they came into an area set up as a chapel. Gwen wanted to move on, but for the sake of saving survivors and clearing out abominations, she followed the group.

“You need not fear,” a hand handed on her shoulder, turning to find Leliana smiling. “Though times may be dark, all will find hope in the Maker’s light. We will succeed.” Gwen said nothing, moving away from the Lay sister. She didn’t want to be rude but she refused to be convinced of something so… She could even form the words. Best just to leave as it was, if Leliana truly had something to say about her atheist ways then she could bring up.

Finding no-one living in the room, Gwen couldn’t shake the feeling of a presence. A dark looming shade hanging in the air making she shiver.

“What?” everyone turned to Cameron, looking down to find he had stepped onto a vial. Dark shapes flittered around his feet like butterflies before disappearing, leaving only a small slip of paper within. Gwen’s sudden shriek had the group on edge, the haunting presence she had felt before exploding around her and flaring the lyrium beneath her skin.

“Revenant!” Wynne held her staff high, shooting an arcane bolt. The bolt was brushed aside as a dark form emerged. Wrapped in steeling armor, long robes covering greaves with a menacing sword and shield in hand, burning ember eyes took in the group.

“Watch out!” Jocelyn blocked a hard blow from the abomination. But she hadn’t judge the blow correctly, getting thrown down by its strength. Left open, Sten charged forward to block the shades blow, only to contact with its shield and force it back. A dark rumble rolled from the Revenant, swinging its sword wide to cleave Sten in two but his blade managed to catch the strike, thrown back by its power. Morrigan and Cameron hailed simultaneous fire and lightning barrages as Wynne quickly weaved her magic to enchant their weapons with flames, hailing down ice and cold to slow the Revenant down. Leliana held the rear, shifting to hail arrows at key joints to slow the possessed down.

“Lass! Stay back!” Baldor roared, throwing his axe around, keeping himself between the demon possessed and Gwen. She shook and gasped, trying to quell the burning.

The Revenant, however, had other ideas. Hearing Baldor turned its attention, eerie eyes setting on Gwen. A dark chuckle rolled from it, arcing its sword low threw Alistair and Sten back, Jocelyn dodging and rolling aside, trying to flank the imposing being. A shield blocked her path but her keen eyes caught the Revenant abandon his sword. Stabbed into the ground, his free hand thrusted forward in Gwen’s direction. Leliana tried to disrupt its move, firing an arrow at its hand but didn’t expect it to deflect the arrow with its gauntlet and make another attempt. Before she knew it, a force latched onto her and ripped her across the room, into the Revenant’s awaiting hand.

“GWEN!” Jocelyn pushed forward, yelling as she tried to swipe at the possessed only to be thrown back by its shield.

Rancid breath assaulted Gwen in addition to the dark aura wrench the pinnacle of her pain threshold. Her voice caught in her throat, eyes wide and all her mind could scream out was to get away. The corpse’s strength was inhuman, threatening to completely consume her. She could feel the demon within the corpse trying to reach out, trying to grasp her mind.

Her words couldn’t hold together; her mind was so consumed she could form any coherent words. She could feel Prue trying to keep the demon back, but she was fading fast.

“ _Gwen, you must reinforce your will. Your will shapes the power within_ ,” her words echoed in her mind, moving to quell what pain she could for Gwen to speak. Cracking an eye open, she could see the others combating the Revenant, its shield abandoned to keep her in its grip and swinging long and high to block and attack. Jocelyn aimed low, targeting its legs and gaps between its armour. Baldor swung hard, adjusting his grip to strike more despite the weight behind it. Alistair and Sten tried uniting their strength to push the Revenant back but struggled to get close with its sword swinging. Wynne tended to their wounds and waning strength, casting healing spells and bolstering weapons while Cameron and Morrigan pressured with magic.

Her team, her friends were pushing so hard. Not just to defeat this demon but to help her. Where she cowered in a corner, they fought on. A resolve bubbled deep within, slowly rising as frustration and anger encouraged its growth. She was sick of being weak. She was sick of being the damsel. She was sick of putting others in danger to save her sorry ass. Screw this!

“Let. Me. GO!!” her hands latched onto the Revenant’s wrist, the anger and frustration erupting in her in waves. The Revenant suddenly shrieked in agony, a change from its dark glowers and low rumbles, dropping Gwen in a heap beside him. Looking up, the possessed cradled its now stumped arm, its hand having disintegrated in an instant. Brought down to one knee, Gwen watched as Alistair and Jocelyn recovered sooner, rushing the Revenant and knocking it off balance, blade plunging deep into its flesh. Gargling congealed blood and black ooze, the Revenant shrivelled and scattered in the dust.

“Gwen!” Getting her balance, now calmed from the pain ebbing away with the Revenant’s defeat. Baldor, Leliana and Wynne at her side while the others watched over. The warm, soothing sensation of healing magic echoed right to her core, it’s effect doubling with the added aid of her tattoos.

“I… I’m fine,” she nodded.

“You sure you’re not a mage?” Cameron stepped forward, as if inspecting her.

“If anything, she would be closer to a Templar,” Jocelyn pipped in, knowing where the elf might be going.

“It doesn’t matter what she is, if she cannot protect herself she will be the death of one of us,” Sten’s words cut deep, feeling the anger rising again.

“I can’t help it everytime we get near a demon or abomination that these… these… FUCKING things keep burning!” she had to breath, keep herself calm. Blowing up wasn’t going to help anyone; the situation was trying enough without have an anxiety attack to make it worse.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Wynne cooed, she didn’t seem annoyed or angered, more concerned than anything.

“I want to help… I’m a warden too,” her argument might not be strong but it was point of her resolve. To just sit, do nothing, drown in worry, that wouldn’t be a healthy situation for her. Being here in the thick with them, fighting. That was the preferable setting.

 

“It could help us,” Leliana mused, “If there were a way to dull the pain.”

“No,” Baldor hitched. “We shouldn’t need to put one of our own through such pain. If no one has noticed the pain cripples her.”

“I’m fine now,” Gwen moved to stand, rolling her joints to work out the residual magic left from Wynne’s healing. Leliana instead handed her a strange plant from her belt pouch.

“It’s Embrium, chewing the petals will aid the pain,” taking her word, having no other knowledge of plants, Gwen took the few petals offered and placed one on her tongue. The tart taste took her tongue first before becoming a chewy salty sweet taste. With each swallow, saliva rich with the strange taste, her pain eased to the point of dull throbs. “Don’t eat too much though, your mouth may fall numb.”

“Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Investigating the First Enchanter’s office, Wynne’s hope of finding Irving falling, Gwen was pleased to have helped Morrigan recover her mother’s Grimoire. Watching her quickly scan the initial pages of the aged tome, Gwen hummed in pride she managed to get a soft ‘thank you’ from the hardened witch.

The third and fourth levels of the tower were littered with shambling corpses and abominations. Gwen had to ask Leliana to teach her more about herbs; the dulling the Embrium had on her tattoos allowed her to push through the mild burning and pain, warning them if a demon was near. An Arcane Horror would’ve caught them unaware in an ambush if it hadn’t been to Gwen feeling it out.

The higher they climbed, the more enemies joined the demons. The last room they had investigated had bemused Templars with a Desire demon holding their leashes. Alistair and Leliana took a moment to leave a prayer for the fallen before they moved on. Their loss redeemed as three tranquil mages were saved from abominations, instructed to return to the lower levels where it was safe.

Yet another Desire demon had bewitched a Templar, masking reality around him and fabricating his desire for a family.

A nerve had been struck.

“You are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment and I dislike disruptions,” the demoness drawled, standing with an air of confidence and seduction.

“There is nothing loving or intimate going on here,” Jocelyn hissed, “Just a vile possession, release him!”

“Why? I have given him what he always wanted,” swaying her barely clothed hips, sauntering behind the entranced Templar and placing him between them and herself. “Where is the harm in that?”

“Hardly. You’re deceiving him. That is what we consider harmful,” Cameron gripped his staff, preparing his magic for use should it be needed.

“All emotion is intangible,” her clawed hand trailed up the templar’s cheek, cradling his chin as a lover would. “You cannot see it, cannot grasp it.”

“Because you feel it, feel it when something real invokes it,” Gwen hissed, her own anger flaring. “You call this love but there isn’t any substance, it’s all an illusion.”

“I agree. Real events and real people evoke these emotions. What you’ve done to him is… is abhorrent,” Wynne nodded, backing up Gwen’s argument.

“I saw his loneliness and longing for a family that loved him,” the demoness purred, ignoring their argument.

“She is feeding off his innermost desires and taking away his will,” Leliana paled from the realisation, taking a step back. “This… this is unholy.”

“Apparently you can get your desire and _still_ suffer horribly. Tis truly a lesson for all who consider marriage,” Morrigan’s quip was more so to herself than to the argument at hand, though it was a valid comment.

“A family where the wife and children are, in reality, the same person…thing. That there… that defines creepy,” Alistair joined Morrigan’s comment, showing a rare show of agreeance on their parts.

“How long will you keep him in this stupor?” Wynne, returning their rebuttal on track, gripped her stave tight. “Will he know when his body fails and death claims him?”

“A short, blissful existence is preferable to an interminable one of misery,” her smirk set another wave of anger through Gwen, aggravating her already burning tattoos in the demon’s presence.

“He doesn’t have to be miserable!” she hissed, stepping forward. “He doesn’t need some vile demon to make him happy, he can make himself happy!” Unaware to herself, Wynne and Alistair stepped back at the sight of her tattoos glowing brighter. “Loneliness is only as strong as you allow it to be. He might want a family but who’s to say he doesn’t find happiness in his friends, in his brothers and sisters in the Order?!” the demoness glowered, almost growling. The Templar, however, blinked and twitched despite her hold. Her glower turned to shock. “You’re pathetic! Weaving illusions and dressing pretty words, it’s pathetic!” Another twitch from the Templar spooked the demon, ignoring Gwen and facing the Templar.

“Help! My love, a demon! They’re here to kill the children!”

“They will not get past me!” suddenly the Templar awoke, charging the group. The demoness cackled as she strafed the field, away from Jocelyn, Alistair and Gwen. “Fools! We are now joined! Should either of us die, so will the others. There is nothing you can do!”

Another innocent death. He didn’t deserve that. No one here deserved it. The battle had been short lived, Sten ramming the Templar into the opposite wall and Morrigan setting the demon aflame. Gwen watched as the Templar slid down, blood painting a sick line as he crumbled the floor. The remains of the demon, nothing more than a pile of ash, scattered from the minor draft within the room. Turning to leave, following the others, Baldor and Jocelyn walking beside her.

“Gwen?” Gwen didn’t move her eyes, keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her.

“Come on, Lass,” Baldor’s tone left little to argue or ignore but Gwen still tried to hold her silence.

“We’ll… talk later then. There are still demons to deal with, and Uldred.” She was glad Jocelyn knew when not to press. Baldor’s concern held on her a while longer before moving on with the others. Gwen tried to clear her thoughts, her outbursts were coming out more frequently and weren’t helping her current state. Trying to calm her breathing, focusing on the point at hand, she moved with the group into the neighbouring rooms.

A few Blood mages had taken refuge in the other rooms, most having Templars under their thrall. More and more innocents were dying in this hellhole, how could anyone consciously choose to do this? And why?

Gwen was unused to being around this amount of death, watching the last of the blood mages slump and expire as Alistair retracted his sword from their body. The stench, the bile, everything collect and Gwen couldn’t hold it back. Running behind a vanity, she purged what little was in her stomach, retching and coughing before a hand landed on her back. Thinking it was Wynne she turned to thank her, reassure her she was fine, only to be surprised as Morrigan stood there, offering a small ripped cloth. It matched the templars’ robes in colour and texture. Accepting the small piece, Gwen wiped her mouth and uttered a small ‘thank you’. Morrigan nodded, said little more before leaving her be.

Wynne approached, taking Morrigan’s place and offering Gwen water. Washing the swill and bile from her mouth, the effects of the Embrium were wearing off. Taking another petal to chew on, the same numbing effect took hold, aiding in calming her nerves.

“Are you sure you don’t wish to go back?” she asked, rubbing her back.

“No, I just…” taking breath, Gwen shook her head. “I’m not used to all… this,” humming, she avoided the sight of a templar’s guts falling through his armour. Wynne wanted to send her back; Gwen knew that she wanted to, but she refused to be the burden, she wasn’t going to be a burden.

“Suck it in, Gwen.” Jocelyn came up to them, a firm hand on her shoulder. “Death is never easy, killing is harder. You’ve been doing well so far, we can get through this but for now, you need to push this aside until after we’ve gotten out of here.”

“Right,” Gwen nodded, her anxiety quelled a moment but she could still feel the eyes on her. Despite her civil chats with Sten, his eyes glowered down as if to judge her every move. Alistair, Leliana and Wynne looked on her with pity. Morrigan and Cameron seemed indifferent though both having a hint of something unreadable while Baldor and Jocelyn offered concern and worry. The stares and looks drove Gwen to push on, she didn’t want the past to repeat again.

With the last door coming into view, Gwen took a breath to bolster confidence. She was going to fight, she was going to help her new friends and help the mages. They were going to stop these Blood mages; they were going to banish these demons.

Stepping through, her breath froze as another abomination turned to them. Something was off; despite the numbness quelling her pain, her tattoos flared. She didn’t like the feeling in the room, it was as if it were trying to seep into her being, claw and crawl into her mind to take root.

“Oh look, visitors,” the abomination’s voice drawled and crawled like a molasses. Sticking and clinging to anyone listening to him. “I’d entertain you but… too much effort involved.”

“Who is that man, and what have you done with him, demon,” Jocelyn hissed, her daggers raised in warning.

“He’s just resting,” the abomination lulled to the side, as if it were too much effort to stand up straight. It’s long taloned hands grabbed the unconscious mage’s head, lifting him without effort and observing him like an interesting knick-knack. “Poor lad, he was so very, very weary. You want to join us, don’t you?”

There it was, Gwen could feel it again. Something slithering over her skin and trying to burrow into her head. In a slight panic she jumped, something flaring within her and striking the feeling from her flesh. But she still couldn’t tell what it was.

 “Wouldn’t you like to just lay down and… forget about all this? Leave it all behind?” it asked again, the abomination’s words dripping with temptation. An aura licked around it; Gwen could see it’s sickly green light breaching the room, dressing it in the same crawling feeling clawing at her mind.

“Can’t… keep eyes open. Someone… pinch… me,” Gwen gasped, watching Alistair fall to the ground.

“Alistair!” Before she could run to his side, Jocelyn staggered towards her, falling into Gwen’s surprised grasp.

“What’s… happen…-ing?” Jocelyn fell unconscious, slumping in Gwen’s arms.

“I’ll not listen to your lies, demon. You have no… power over me…” Leliana slid down the wall she tried to support herself on, only managing to slump to her knees and fall asleep.

“Stone… forsaken… demon…”

“Baldor!” Gwen watched as the dwarf collapsed, his axe clanging on the ground beside him. More thuds echoed around her, turning to watch as the others succumbed to this demon’s spell. Morrigan cursed, Cameron catching her before both collapsed. Sten tried to charge the abomination but fell short, his greatsword skittering away as his body crumpled.

“Resist,” Gwen watched Wynne reach for her staff, using all her might to resist herself. “You must… resist, else we are… all lose…” Gwen reacted, leaving Jocelyn to catch Wynne.

“No Wynne, not you too,” Gwen didn’t know what to do, looking around to find herself the last to fall under. What was she supposed to do now?

“Why do you fight?” Her body froze, moving without her command. Trying to fight the command, she struggled to keep her head from turning to the abomination. His long fingers touched her chin, lifting her gaze up. “You deserve more… You deserve a rest,” kneeling down, its grotesque visage lent in close, rancid breath upsetting her nose and stomach. “The world will go on without you~”

Those words alone, reaching deep inside her, unlocked a long since locked memory. One she never wanted to revisit. The emotions conjured by the memory swelled, rolling inside her before growing into a hurricane of emotions. Her lyrium ignited, the glow intensifying and blinding the room. The abomination growled and shrieked, pulling back while Gwen fell over the edge, her body shifting and moving before her world turned white.

* * *

Gwen’s mind slowly waded out of the black back into the light. On her back, her eyes caught the emerald skies hanging over her. Groaning, squeezing her eyes close as she tried to pull herself up.

A sudden smell caught her nose, snapping her eyes open to gaze across the seen. Gasping, she scrambled to her feet, looking around her. Large Summer oaks and large Hawthorns lining the Climbing ivy walls. Azaleas mixing with Bluebells; Roses, Buttercups and Forget-me-nots scattered along cobblestone pathways leading to her little secluded Weeping willow refuge. Surrounded her stone seat were patches of Lavender, Lilacs, Primroses, Violets and Wisterias. All her favourite flowers. All found in her secret corner of her family’s home.

Standing up, ignoring the book falling from her lap, she pushed past the Willow’s curtain and ran. She moved over the paths she had memorised as a child, running across the small white bridge over the fish pond until she froze in place. There, in the white pergola wrapped in Bignonia vines, was her parents.

Her father, regal in his dress suit. No doubt having to go to the House of Nobles later that day. His dark hair styled back while wire glasses perched on his angular nose. Reading the morning paper, holding his favourite mug of coffee.

Her mother, gorgeous in her favourite sundress, hands delicately holding her fine china teacup, no doubt drinking the chrysanthemum tea she had received as a gift. Her face painted with skill, bringing out her natural beauty. Brown hair swept over her shoulder in an elegant curl.

“Mum?... Dad?...”

“Oh darling there you are~!” Her mother called, smiling and waving her over. “Did you fall asleep reading under the willow again? Come along now, breakfast is ready.”

A hand grasped her shoulder, turning to find Sebastian, a butler in service to her family for three generations. Left stunned and shocked, she was led to the small pergola and offered a seat beside her mother. Lined before were plates of French toast, fresh fruits, muesli and juice.

“Now, today we’ll being going out to get your new dress fitted for Count Regimount’s summer gala,” no matter what her mother was saying, Gwen was frozen stunned.

“What happened?”

Her parents looked to her, now coming to see her shocked expression. Stunned by the sudden change around her. Her home. She was home, and yet something seemed so off about it. The more she tried to pull in every familiar detail surrounding her, the more she could see how it seemed faked. As detailed as each petal on her family’s flowers, to the stained wood of the aged pergola, they still appeared to be fake. Muted details, off colours and just didn’t seem… right.

“Whatever do you mean dear?” Her father asked, folding his newspaper.

“I… we were in the Circle tower,” her eyes shook, looking up to her parents’ gaze. “We were helping the mages… but then that… the demon.” Widening, she jumped from her seat and searched the garden. “Where are the others? Where’s Prue?”

“Oh come now dear, you must’ve been dreaming,” her mother cooed. Taking her hand in hers, Gwen hissed and wrenched her hand back. Eyes widening, watching the lyrium ripple beneath her skin. “Gwen?”

“This… this isn’t real,” her tattoos hummed, as if to confirm her thoughts. Stumbling back from her chair, causing it to fall over. Her parents jumped, both with concern and worry written on their faces.

“Gwen, please,” her father placed his hands on her shoulders, urging her to a side bench. She resisted but his persistence remained. “It’s alright. You must've had a bad dream. You've been here the whole time.”

“No…” Gwen shook, her eyes jumping around, trying to grasp every detail. “I… I was in the tower… the demon. Where are the others?”

“You really don’t get it do you?” her father asked, turning her head. Before she could blink, both of them were before her. “ _We give you what you want~ And you turn your nose? Naughty girl~_ ” the silken voice drawled. Gasping, watching as her parents melted away into two desire demons. One looked like the few she had the misfortune to meet; voluptuous women, barely clothed with large curling horns. The second, however, appeared as a man. Coloured and clothed the same as his feminine twin, but had larger horns and a gaze that could melt ice. The gardens around her shifted as their masters’ had. Flowers darkened and wilted in decay while the trees shed their leaves as gnarled vine sapped and leeched the life form the garden. Marble archways crumbled and collapsed as the landscape turned to a hell scape.

“Leave me alone!” Gwen pushed away, turning away from the demons only to freeze. Hands clasped around her arms, pulling her back between them. Despite her struggles, the demons held her fast; the male desire held her shoulders and waist while the female desire wrenched her hands up.

“ _Sorry, but naughty girls don’t get what they want._ ”

Gwen watched as the female demon ran her fingers over her arms. Familiar sensations rolled through her. Her gliding talons puckered her skin, slicing them open and allowing blood to flow. Each cut was meticulous, rolling over invisible lines beneath her new tattoos. Each glide billowed blood and lyrium, mixing and stinging over her skin before dripping onto the ground. Gwen gasped, throat closing off as her body flew into a panic. Her mind reeled, recalling these familiar sensations. She shook and choked, whimpering from the pain of both memories and injuries erupted with each new glide.

“ _Naughty girls only deserve nightmares~_ ” these desire demons shook and moaned, taking in Gwen frozen form, watching as blood covered her skin and seeped through her armour. “ _How deep in despair you must have been to resort to these~_ ” she purred, taking quick swipes before petting her cuts with deft fingers. “ _Not an inch of skin left untouched.”_

“S-Stop it!” Gwen could barely speak, feeling her body get weaker. Each new cut caused a new river of blood, sapping her strength in the process.

“ _Not until you behave,_ ” the male demon purred, painting his fingers red as his companion moved down Gwen’s body.

“ _Even here, my my you intended to turn your entire body into a canvas~_ ” her purr rattled a shriek from Gwen, eyes shaking in pain as the demon took her time to lick her reopened wounds. “ _Does this bring you peace human? So strange to find such relief in blades and blood.”_ She wasn’t off put by the idea, rather the demoness seemed spurred on to accomplish such a strange desire. “ _Does reopening these wounds bring you more peace than you own parents?”_

“ _Do not deny it_ ,” the male churred, his grip slacking and causing Gwen to collapse. A large pool of blood formed around her, splashing beneath her as her frantic moves tried to plug up the memories and all the red. “ _We can give you this solace, this relief~_ ” wrenching her hands from her hurried attempts to stop her bleeding, both demons pulled her down onto her back, pinned by her arms while the vision of her decaying home began to wither further and rot from the growing sea of blood pouring from her many cuts. Arms, legs, back and even front slowly leaking blood and hints of lyrium; how could she still be alive with the amount of blood surrounding them?

“ _Allow us to bring you bliss_ ,” with what little strength she had left, Gwen turned to face them, both brandishing long daggers; their points pressed into her wrists. “ _Bring you the end you wanted~_ ” She wanted to struggled, with what little strength she could muster on adrenaline alone wasn’t enough to pull her away from the demons, watching in their glee as they loomed over her. “ _Stay and we will give you peace_.”

Before now, in a time long since passed, she would’ve welcomed this. Welcomed them to end everything. End the pain and torment, the constant frustrations and slip into a peaceful abyss. But what about the others? The mages? The Arl and his son? The looming blight? Shaking her head, Gwen tried to move back, pull her hands back but could only feel their overwhelming strength.

“ _Stupid girl! Just submit!_ ” glints of light shone, flaring her panic. The moment those blades made contact, she would die.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!”

A column of light fired from the sky, banishing the sickly green of the fade and welcoming the stain glass shine back. The desire demons shrieked in pain, dispersing and vanishing from her side. The wounds they had opened mended, wiped away like dirt and purging the ground from her spilled blood. Instead, she had returned to her family’s garden, just as she had remembered it.

“What?” she questioned, shakily rising to her feet.

“ _Your will was stronger_ ,” turning, a small smile replaced her confused glances as Prue approached. “ _The demons had blocked my influence here; I wasn’t able to help I’m afraid._ ” A saddened frown covered her features, looking around the garden. “ _They play off of your desires, there was no way I could intervene unless you had desired it, even then that would mean falling into their clutches._ ”

“They almost…” Gwen shook her head, not wanting to return to that state. It was past her, only the scars remained. “It’s fine. So long as they’re gone now.”

“Gwen?” the new voice made her jump, turning around to one of the stone arches within her garden. Baldor stood, axe in hand but appeared confused and shocked. He looked between Gwen and Prue, keeping his grip as he approached.

“Baldor? How did?” she paused a moment, a thought leaping into her mind. Did…had Baldor seen what had happened? “How much did you?”

“Enough,” his curt reply sent a chill through Gwen, heavy footsteps brought her attention to Jocelyn, coming from around a corner while Cameron had appeared from behind a tree. All three warden recruits stared. Had they all seen her dream?

“I…You didn’t need…” she couldn’t form words. Embarrassed was beyond what she was feeling right now. How could she tell them? How could she explain it to them?

“We can talk about this later,” Cameron approached, looking to the others. “We’ve managed to free the others from their dreams. With Guinevere freed from her dream, we can now face the demon,” Cameron’s eye fell to Gwen, locking for only a moment. “We can discuss what we saw back at camp.”

“Right, let’s put an end to this so we can get back to the waking world. The arl’s son may not have much time left,” Jocelyn led them on, Cameron following behind. Gwen still felt stiff, turning to Prue for any sort of advice but only found her spirit companion offer a comforting smiling, fading back and stepping in place with her. Gwen could feel her return, as if something had returned and made her whole again.

“We’re with ya, lass,” Baldor turned her attention, taking her hand. His large hand encompassed hers, though his callous skin was rough against hers, his hand was warm and offered a great deal of comfort. His smile didn’t judge but he seemed to just… ground her. Returning his smile with a small grin, Gwen followed after him.

This demon needed to be stopped; the sooner the better.

* * *

Shifting through the Fade was a strange experience; Baldor, Cameron and Jocelyn spoke of how they could shift and change their shapes in order to hunt down the demons in league with their enemy, a demon of Sloth.

Stepping through the last portal, Gwen could feel her stomach drop, shaking with a little queasiness. It was still so strange she could feel like this when this was all supposed to be a dream.

Speaking of the dream, the new area was uneven with a number of bumps and pot holes you could trip in. Tall twisting spires of stone and strange marsh-land reeds and flora somehow managing to thrive here.

Before they could make a move of their own, the plain shifted, Sloth taking its true form. It appeared as a tall Arcane horror; robes tarnished and ragged with long fingered talons and a strange tall mage hood covering its head and face.

“What do we have here?” the demon drawled, its voice seemingly unwilling to speak words due to its nature. “A rebellious minion? An escaped slave?” the demon mocked them, hovering around and addressing each of them. “My my…but you all do have some gall~” it paused before Gwen, almost smirking a wide toothy grin as she shrank back, despite Jocelyn and Baldor at her back. “And you too? My I had hoped those incestuous twins could have at least shaped a dream to your liking,” his talons moved forward, cupping under her chin but didn’t move to grasp her as Gwen recoiled back. “A shame~ You would have made an excellent addition. No doubt your… _companion_ had a hand in this.” The very mention of her brought Prue back into the open, her eyes hard upon the demon.

“ _You will not have her, fiend_ ,” Prue remained grounded while the demon cackled, shifting away from them.

“And yet it is your presence they fear more, little Purity,” he mused, pausing a moment to ignore the others. “Despite what you spirits claim, you are truly no different than us demons.”

“ _Of course, you were once like any spirit. No doubt one of knowledge_ ,” Prue mused, finding a small victory in the demon’s scoff. “ _And yet with so much knowledge, you became lazy, lulled and weak. Slipping into your own sin_.”

“And yet here I am, on a precipice of power, where as you are slowly consumed by this mortal’s soul~” this caused Gwen alarm. She was consuming Prue? How? Why? “But, sadly, playtime is over. You all will have to go back now,” all mirth the demon had faded, his will shaping this plane of the Fade with the intent of sealing them back in their dreams.

However, Gwen almost jumped out of her skin as small lights shifted, revealing the others once trapped in their dreams. Alistair stumbled, shifting to catch himself as he looked around and found the others with him. Leliana seemed distraught, shaking her head to clear whatever fog was left behind. Morrigan looked more relieved than the rest while Sten seemed indifferent. Wynne seemed more composed than the others, however whatever she saw in her dream rocked her.

“Oh, here I am! And there you all are! You just disappeared,” Alistair mused, looking around until he set his sights on the warden recruits and the demon. “Well, no matter.” The others seemed to gain their bearings, discovering the demon behind all of their trappings standing before them. Whether they had noticed Prue with Gwen or not wasn’t brought forward; the demon was their primary concern.

“You tried to keep us apart. You led us from each other because you fear us. Don’t you?” Leliana snipped, feeling her resolve strengthen within the company of her companions, and many of the other agreed.

“You made a dangerous enemy, demon, by toying with my mind,” Morrigan hissed, her magic blue flames licking from her fingertips, fuelled by her anger.

“You will not hold us, demon!” Wynne proclaimed, her eyes dead set on the demon. “We found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us.”

“It is time to finish this, I have had enough of cages,” Sten nodded, gripping the great sword on his back. All of them arming themselves. The demon, however, could only cackle and bellow laughter, as if a priceless joke was whispered into his ear.

“You mortals are so amusing,” it chuckled, rolling its neck. “But if you go back quietly, I’ll do my best this time,” his voice purred, as if in some attempt to soothe them much like his abomination shell had in the waking world. “I’ll make you much happier~”

“We want nothing from you, demon,” Jocelyn hissed, drawing her daggers.

“I made you happy and safe. I gave you peace,” the demon shifted again, hovering back and forth around them. “I did my best for you and you say you want to leave?” Gwen shook. This demon was lying, there was nothing peaceful about her dream; she couldn’t speak for the others but there was nothing peaceful or happy about reliving such nightmares. Sloth must’ve caught onto her thoughts, for he snapped and leaned in impossibly close to her face. She froze, fear stiffening muscles and blood turning to ice. “Can’t you think about someone other than yourself? I’m hurt, so very, very hurt~” just as he reached again, Prue snapped forward and forced the demon back. Gwen missed the gasps and murmurs the others whispered.

“As if we’d give two piss coppers about you, demon. We’ll take our chances, whether ya like it or not,” Baldor growled, hefting his axe and gripping the handle tight.

“You wish to battle me? So be it,” the demon’s will shook the plane, preparing for the onslaught. “You will learn to bow to your betters, mortals!”

Where all the others stood steeled and prepared, Gwen froze in fear and pain as the demon shifted and morphed into a ghastly form. Its close proximity had aggravated her already stinging tattoos. She managed to step aside to allow the others to fight as she tried to deal with her own pain.

“ _Gwen_ ,” Prue came to her side, trying to calm the growing sting but Gwen appeared resistant.

“What did he mean? Am I absorbing you?” she gasped, moving aside and farther away from the demon.

“Gwen! We could use your help!!” Alistair cried, blocking a blow from the hulking demon. However, he missed the demon’s sweeping arm and was thrown into a charging Sten.

“ _There is no time to explain, Gwen_ ,” Prue cooed, wiping Gwen’s brow. “ _You need to fight._ ”

“I…I can’t, everything hurts!” she hissed again, swearing her old scars had opened again much like her dream.

“You cannot allow it to claim you. Use it to drive you.”

“How?” Prue placed her hand on Gwen’s shoulder, turning her gaze to her. But all Gwen’s eyes caught was the demon swinging at her friends. Alistair appeared unable to stand up. Sten used his greatsword to prop himself up. Morrigan and Wynne were drained of magic, using their staves to fight off the demon’s advances. Leliana had run out of arrows, using her bow to strike a blow. Jocelyn was left with her shield, blocking blows aimed at a weakened Cameron while Baldor warded off the harsher blows. They all looked ready to fall asleep again; the demon exuding more of his will to force them to slumber, forcing them back into their dreams.

She didn’t think, seeing her friends in peril while she coward in the background, it caused something to bubble within her. Instead of stinging, the lyrium within her bubbled with warmth, leaping and flicking off her like wisps of smoke. Gripping her blades, her eyes locked on the demon; it had been shifting forms since the battle began, returning to its true form. Much like the battle with the ogre, Gwen focused, channelled the energy and shot forward. Lyrium grew on her daggers, more than they had before as the Fade seemed to shift.

“No…Impossible!” the demon focused full attention on Gwen, raising his hand to catch her blades. “You’re not even a mage! This isn’t Purity’s power, how are you doing this?! Tell me!”

“No one hurts my friends!” Gwen hissed, throwing her blades about without care but couldn’t match the demon’s strength.

“And how can you! A pathetic mortal how harmed herself meant to protect others?!” his words hurt, just enough to throw her off for him to throw her across his small plane. “You will all return to your places! I will not stand for this affront!”

“Oh shut it already!!” Baldor, for some reason, felt renewed. Swinging his axe, he managed to land a harsh blow – severing the demon’s arm off. The others moved with a renewed vigor, all swarming the demon. Sloth was enraged, fire licking off of him as he tried to protect himself. Shifting again, he took on a form of Rage, pushing them all off. Wynne hardened herself with Rock Flesh as Morrigan and Cameron threw ice to stifle the Rage.

Gwen, dropping her ruined daggers, had only her bow left. Feeling her back, she gasped finding no arrows. Her quiver had been lost in the scuffle, leaving her without anything. But an idea came to mind, testing the string of her weapon. Looking to the demon, Prue filled her with warmth at the sight of her idea. If her daggers could grow because of her cursed tattoos, why not an arrow?

Recalling her training, bringing up everything her instructors and Jocelyn had taught her, she pulled the bowstring back. Her tattoos grew bright, a thin shaft materialising in the crux of her bow. She focused, her mind locking on the image of the demon, seeing his true form.

“WHAT?!” the demon shouted, confused as his body contorted back beyond his will. Searching for the cause, all he had seen was a bolt of light before his being disappeared.

* * *

Gasping, Gwen sat up.

Cold sweat ran down her brow, her breathing harsh as if she had just been in a nightmare. But slowly, the so called ‘dream’ came back to her. She was in the Fade, they all were. Trapped by a Sloth demon and…

Her blood ran cold.

The saw. They saw her dream. They now knew why she had so many scars and that she was the inflictor. Her mind reeled over every possible way she could explain this to them when the others slowly came to. Alistair yawned, rubbing his eyes as if he had had a charming nap while the others appeared to be recovering from a heavy bender.

One body didn’t move, however. Gwen moved toward the man she had not seen before, reaching to grasp his shoulder. Surprised she recoiled, watching as the body slumped over, revealing a dead Mage.

“His name was Niall,” turning, Gwen watched as Cameron inspected the body. “You did not have a chance to meet him, but he was the Mage controlled by the sloth demon.” Her eyes widened. But the sloth demon that sent them to sleep looked nothing like this man, nor had the demon’s true form. “But in his last moments of life, he’s has given up the key to saving the circle.” From his robes, Cameron removed a small scroll and reached for the mage’s face. Sliding his eyes closed, she heard Cameron mutter something in elvish; a prayer perhaps, or a farewell, she wasn’t sure.

“We have the litany, we need to keep moving,” Jocelyn helped Gwen to her feet as Cameron steadied himself on his stave. “Let’s just hope this delay hasn’t costed the mages or the Arl’s son time.”

“This way, we must hurry,” Wynne pointed to a door on the far side of the room. Following the group out, Gwen couldn’t help but glance at the others. Did they know? And if they did, how did they feel about having not only someone considered an ‘abomination’ in their team but someone capable of self-harm? Her anxieties and insecurities shifted within her mind, held at bay only when she needed to defend herself and fight.

This Uldred seemed adamant to bring about the strongest and most destructive monsters into the tower, real drakes littering the halls – as if demons and magic being real wasn’t bad enough but dragons too?! – but once they and the few demonic minions were dealt with, they finally reached the top of the tower.

“Look there!” Jocelyn rushed ahead, catching something that made the rest cringe. A lone Templar, surrounded by his dead kinsmen, hurried and panicked whispers of prayers.

“We must help him,” Wynne approached but her hand seemed repelled. A barrier had been erected around the survivor, surprising the wisen mage.

“This trick again?” the Templar asked, looking across the group. “I know what you are. It won’t work! I will stay strong…” despite his bravado and fear-driven stubbornness, the Templar appeared tortured, starved and dehydrated. Were his delusions by his own mind now or that of demons? Gwen couldn’t feel anything too extreme, her itching and pain growing the closer they came to the tower’s peak but by this Templar she felt nothing.

“The boy is exhausted,” Wynne cooed, her motherly side coming through as she knelt before the templar, unable to reach him through the barrier. “And this cage…I’ve never seen anything like it.” Trying once again to reach the Templar, and banish the barrier somehow, the Templar recoiled. “Rest easy, help is here.”

“Enough visions!” he snapped, “If anything in you is human…kill me now and stop this game.” His words strummed against Gwen’s heart like strings. She could sympathise such torment; yet her demons were born of her own mind, just self-questioning and rising anxiety could conjure just about anything.

“He’s delirious,” Leliana approached, repelled by the shield. “He’s been tortured, and has been denied food and water. I can tell,” looking to the group, there was hardly anything they could do. Gwen looked on, concerned. She could understand the strain of trying to keep one’s sanity in the face of dark thoughts and temptations. She had crossed the precipice; no one should have to suffer like that.“He’s delirious

“ _You can aid him_ ,” Prue whispered, rising within her. “ _Remember, like before: we are shaped by our wills. Lyrium makes our wills real._ ”

Before Leliana could move, Gwen stepped forward. Something hummed in her mind, chasing away the stinging of the nearby demons and replacing it with resolve. She stood before the barrier, looking down on the Templar.

“Don’t touch me! Stay away!” his eyes sullen and sunken, shaking in fear. “Filthy blood mages…getting in my head…I will not break! I’d rather die!”

Gwen raised her hand, lyrium aglow and bleeding through her gloves. In a flash, the barrier disappeared, shattering like glass around them. The Templar looked stunned, froze still as Gwen stood before him. The others were indeed surprised, but more so when Gwen dropped to her knees before the Templar, drawing the stunned man into an embrace.

“It’s okay now,” she hummed, feeling him tense. “You are stronger than those dark voices. They can’t hurt you. Remember the people you love, your family and friends. Don’t let those thoughts take you away from them.” She could feel her own tears threatening to fall, recalling her own walk through the thoughts of death. “You’re still here. They lost. You can rest now.”

“Gwen?” Alistair took a step forward, but stopped as Jocelyn placed a hand on his shoulder. Cameron and Baldor looked on with the same understand gaze. The warden knew he was missing something, but he stayed back and watched this suffering Templar relax in her arms. “We…should probably keep moving. We still need to stop Uldred.”

“Gwen, stay here and watch him,” Gwen didn’t turn, glancing to the side as the others scaled the stairs. Jocelyn drew her sword and braced her shield, “No doubt Uldred will have demons surrounding him…it would be best.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

The sounds of battle were harrowing to listen to and be unable to help. But Gwen stayed with the Templar, Cullen he had told her, keeping his mind focused on her rather than the memory of his fallen comrades. There would be time to mourn.

“How can you friends possibly wish to help these…these blood mages? After all they have done?” Cullen hissed, letting Gwen wrap his wounds.

“I wouldn’t be one to ask, unfortunately,” she admitted, tying off her last strip of bandage. “I’m still trying to understand how magic works, and these tattoos certainly don’t help.”

“Yes, I can see,” he seemed intrigued as well as weary of her lyrium. But he didn’t instantly conclude she was some mage. “But how do you know so little of magic?”

“Well…” Gwen paused, how could she explain it to him without sounding like some abomination? “All I know, is that I was brought here by Tevinter Mages. They did this to me and now I can do things, manipulate lyrium but not like a mage,” to demonstrate, Gwen tried to summon fire like Wynne had tried to teach her by to no avail. “But I can seem to augment weapons, move really fast or become invisible,” she didn’t try to show him, not after the panic attack he had suffered before. “But it seems I can…I don’t know ‘erase’ magic? Like the barrier.”

“Sounds like you’re more a Templar than a mage,” he seemed relieved by that revelation, even managing a small smile. Gwen smiled back, helping him get his pauldron back on over his bandaged shoulder.

“But some Templars aren’t that perfect either, you know,” she felt him turn, maybe scoffing before she could explain. “Hey, there can be fault on both sides. I mean there seems to be some prejudice on both sides.”

“At least one side can’t kill you with magic,” he scoffed.

“But one of them subjugates you purely by what you’re born as. Where I’m from that would be considered racist,” before he could turn and retort, defending his brethren, she raised her hand. “But I’m not one to comment remember? I’m not from here, I don’t know how things work and I’m only an outside observer. I meant no disrespect.” He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it after finding no words.

Their conversation halted, however, when the group returned with another few mages with them. Cullen almost jumped out of his skin, where Gwen had grasped his hand to reassure him it was safe.

Cullen gripped his sword, regardless, following behind them and the mages until they reached the bottom of the tower again. Irving, the First Enchanter they had sort after, uttered the words to open the guarded doors. Wynne’s apprentices and the children were ushered to a healer, a Templar following while the others approached Greagoir.

“Irving?” the Knight commander was surprised, not shocked, to see the aged mage standing before him. “Maker’s breath, I did not expect to see you alive, nor the others with you,” indicating to the injured enchanters and mages with them, all of which were taken aside for healing.

“It is over, Greagoir,” Irving nodded, accepting a firm handshake from the commander. “Uldred is dead.”

“Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don’t know how many of them have turned,” Cullen stepped forward, giving his report. Most of the surviving mages coherent enough to hear the captain paled, eyes shifting to the Templars around them in case they were attacked. Cameron and Morrigan, however, rolled their eyes; fed up with the scarred Templars ridiculous assumptions.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous!” Irving growled, voicing what most were thinking. Gwen sighed; she had hoped the temple might’ve seen reason but it seemed a far stretch. His torment no doubt left deep and festering scars.

“Of course he’ll say that! He might be a blood mage! Don’t you know what they did? I won’t let this happen again!” Cullen hissed, turning on the enchanter, but a firm hand stopped him. Commander Greagoir glared down on the captain, clearly displeased with the accusations.

“I am the Knight-Commander here, not you,” his words were finite.

“Oh _Pashera_ , why not have the warden purge the mage if you are so adamant he is possessed?” Sten’s sudden curse and proposal stunned most in the room. Save for the group.

“What?” Gwen turned to them, confused by what the Qunari meant.

“What Sten means,” Cameron glared at the Qunari, clearly annoyed the fact was made known. “When we battled a Sloth demon in the fade, Gwen was able to purge the demon from the mage Niall, so we could free him of his possession and return to the waking world.”

“I did…what?” No, that couldn’t be right. Gwen had attacked sloth but all she could recall was a blinding light after her arrow left her bow.

“Tis so it seems,” Morrigan added, receiving a glare from the commander. “Gwen is capable of purging demons from their possessed bodies. A rather rare skill but a useful one,” she turned to Greagoir and the Templars. “If you feel so adamant on being proven wrong, then 'tis the only way to be sure.”

“Is this true, warden?” Gwen could feel Greagoir size her up, not exactly leaving much for assumption. She felt unsure, could she do this? She had purged the blight from Aveline’s husband some weeks ago but that was a physical illness, this was a possession. Would it hurt her or would it hurt Irving.

“Guinevere,” turning, Wynne offered a small smile, placing her hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, if it’ll help then…I have to.” Adamant but still unsure, Gwen approached Irving. He didn’t stop her, one look from Wynne appeared enough for the First Enchanter to trust her.

“You are the visitor Wynne spoke of,” Irving mused, “A foreigner brought here by Tevinter.”

“Y-yes sir,” she nodded, raising her hands. Her hands shook, looking about for some sign to guide her or for someone to stop her. But no one moved, most staying on a breath to see her perform. Sighing, Gwen could feel Prue stir, her hand grasping hers and guiding it to rest on Irving’s chest. Pausing, Gwen recalled how this was similar to purging the Blight from Ser Wesley. With that in mind, she raised her other hand to Irving’s forehead. Somewhat concerned with her hand placements, Irving felt a warm surge of mana.

His eyes looked to the lyrium markings bleeding through her armour. Unlike the Templars clumsier and invasive exoticism, the lyrium washed over him like a calming rainfall. Coating in the mystic energy, it slipped through all cracks and investigate his mind.

“Nothing,” Gwen mused, stumbling back from surge. “There wasn’t a demon.”

“Satisfied, captain?” Alistair jested, receiving a glare from Cullen.

Despite the captain’s insistence Gwen check the others, adamant at least one of them were possessed or a blood mage, the group insisted the urgency of the Arl’s condition and the peril his mage son currently lay in was now the priority. With the Templar’s duty complete, their original objective returned as they clamoured to restore order. Irving promised to take his strongest enchanters to Redcliffe, wishing their journeys well before making the preparations.

Crossing back over the lake to make their way back to Redcliffe, Gwen could feel some eyes on her; the group no doubt had questions, but their intense stares were only causing her discomfort. She was not going to like this.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

Making camp for the night, they would make it to Redcliffe by early morning. I would have been a shorter journey but after meeting a merchant on the road and procuring a strange golem control rod from him led to ridding a trapped village of a demon trapped in a cat.

“Gwen,” looking up from her bowl, having been staring at the broth until the steam had dissipated and cooled, Gwen could see from Jocelyn, Cameron, Baldor and even Leliana and Alistair’s looks they sort answers. Wynne had taken to sitting with her; the only one who really had anything extended period with her and knew most of what she had admitted. Morrigan, though often times distanced herself and managed her own food, took to joining the group out of her own curiosity. Sten remained where he was but everyone could tell the Barasaad was listening.

“I…”

“We need the truth,” forward, Jocelyn wasted no time in asking.

“How are you able to banish demons?” Alistair added, readjusting his seat.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Leliana asked, confused by the sudden question. “The lyrium within Gwen must be the reason, surely?”

“No, we discovered it’s true origins while in the Fade,” Cameron replied, looking back to Gwen. “Her lyrium may fuel it but it is not the true source.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered. She had thought they were her friends, but she had a feeling when they saw her dream in the Fade that it would be brought up.

“For the good of the group, we shouldn’t have any more secrets,” Jocelyn nodded, the others agreeing. Wynne, however, looped her arms around Gwen, hoping to soothe the distressed woman.

“But is it really necessary to put her on trial like this?” the aged mage asked, looking back over the younger group. “Gwen has done nothing to warrant this treatment.”

“No, but given the nature of all of this, it would be better that everyone knew,” Cameron added, knowing the Ferelden Mage was only concerned for her well-being.

“I agree with Wynne,” Baldor pipped up, looking back over the group. “If the lass wanted to tell us, she would. Ganging up on her is probably making things worse, putting her on the spot.”

More and more they argued, reasoning and spouted excuses. Why? She wasn’t a threat and Prue was certainly not a demon to be feared. What worried her more was the fact she was somehow absorbing Prue. That was her main concern now, but it was hard to focus and keep a straight thought when everyone seemed out to get her.

“This is getting out of hand!” Baldor snapped, glaring down the others. “The Lass has shown us no reason for doubt.”

“But now there is!” Jocelyn hissed. “And from what was seen in the Fade it needs to be addressed now.”

“They’re right,” her voice broke through the arguments, turning all eyes to her. Gwen didn’t want them to fight, she didn’t what to the reason they were fighting. If they just saw how Prue was, that she was a spirit and not a demon, maybe they would understand. “Prue, c-could you please come out?” she could feel the spirit shift, but not in a fearful manner as Gwen felt, but as a reassuring brush against her back. She braced, seeing some of the others jump back in surprise as Prue faded into existence. She hovered by her back, her dress whipping in an absent wind. Drawing in her knees, she waited for the others to attack.

“By the maker…” Alistair gapped, staring at the white spirit.

“This is what you saw in the Fade?” Morrigan asked.

“Yes, it calls itself Prue,” Cameron answered, pushing up on his heels to stand.

“She,” Gwen corrected, looking up at the elven mage. “And I gave her that name.”

“Why?” Leliana asked, her eyes wide and confused, unsure of whether to be amazed and in awe or afraid.

“Because she asked, and it saved her from turning into a demon,” Gwen tensed, wondering where all of this might lead. Were they going to accept Prue and leave the matter mute, or were they going to try and take her away, separate her and Prue or worse, kill her for being an abomination despite everything they had been through.

“And she is how you can banish demons?” Jocelyn asked, watching the spirit with her hand on her sword.

“ _That power comes from Guinevere_ ,” Prue spoke, turning eyes back to her. “ _I am the source, but she directs._ ”

“What do you mean ‘she directs’?” Leliana pressed, but all scoffed as Morrigan stepped forward.

“Tis obvious,” she smirked, “Much like a mage commands lyrium to form spells and magic, her very will directs the abilities of this spirit – a spirit of purity no less.”

“A spirit? Of Purity?” Leliana turned from being unsure what to feel, to genuine surprise. “I would not have thought there were any such beings still in existence.”

“ _I may very well be the last,_ ” Prue sighed, but she smiled as she placed a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “ _But Gwen has helped bring me purpose, and for that I am grateful_.”

“So, you’ve never taken control of her?” Alistair asked, looking between the spirit and Gwen. Gwen shook her head, keeping herself pulled into herself. Prue mimicked her shake, leaning in closer to Gwen to help ease her concern.

“ _That isn’t the bond we share, I may reside within Gwen but I am no more able to control her than passing thoughts,”_ Prue explained.

Sten had remained quiet through most of the exchange, something that Morrigan and Wynne seemed to notice. It would have been expected for the Qunari Barasaad to have an opinion given he often argued with Jocelyn being a woman and fighting like a man or regarding Cameron for being a ‘Sarabaas’ – a mage in the Qunari tongue – and not having someone holding a leash to him. In addition to arguing with Baldor regarding their slow approach to stopping the blight, it was strange for the outspoken Qunari to remain silent.

“When had this union taken place?” Sten suddenly asked, turning heads. Gwen perked up, pondering whether to say when or not, to reveal not only her ability to purge demons but to purge the blight from the afflicted. What could such an answer offer? What would they think if they discovered she wasn’t really a warden?

“I think that’s enough interrogating for tonight,” Wynne stepped in, placing her own hands on Gwen’s stiff shoulders. “We have discovered our answers regarding her power to purge the possessed. To ask anymore would only cause Gwen more undue stress.”

Baldor didn’t speak, letting his actions speak louder as he stood and pulled Gwen with him. Slightly confused, Gwen felt Prue smile before retreating back into her mind. There was something the spirit wasn’t telling her but she had little time to question or press the spirit for answers, instead she followed Baldor as he took her away from the small circle and to their sleeping bags.

Lying down, curling into a fetal position, Gwen could hear the other’s dispersing and turning in for the night. Alistair and Sten agreed on the first watch while Baldor promised to wake her when it was their turn. For the meantime, Gwen was able to sleep and dream, leading her to muse over what the Sloth demon had said.

“Prue!” she called out in the realm of her dreams. The world was so different from her time in the tower. The sickly green sky was calm, the monsterous and disease-ridden landscape flourished with grassy plains and vast wildflowers. Everything looked like she was seeing it through stain glass windows, so surreal but seemed so right. 

“ _What’s wrong, Gwen?_ ” Prue asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air. She still appeared as she had before but her appearance had certainly changed. Her hair was now styled up in a loose messy bun, her white slip was now a billowing gown. It looked almost like a gown she had worn once.

“Is it true?” she asked, taking a seat on the grass. She couldn’t look at her friend, not when she could be the reason she could…

“ _Yes,_ ” Prue didn’t waste words, coming to sit beside her and took her hand in comfort. “ _You and I are slowly becoming the one being, and the more power shared between us the faster the merge becomes._ ”

“Then I won’t use it!” Gwen turned, her fears answered and wrenching her heart in a vice. “I won’t use whatever this power is, or the lyrium.”

“ _I’m afraid it isn’t that simple_ ,” Prue gripped her hand tighter. “ _We would unite regardless of what happens, the process is slowed because of your lyrium marks acting like a barrier, but because we are close the process still occurs. The more you will the lyrium to your wishes, the easier it is for my self to slip through._ ” Gwen knew there was nothing she could do, but she truly wished there was. Prue was more than just a friend, more than anything she wanted her to stay.

“Then…I won’t use it anymore!” Gwen concluded, looking straight at her spirit friend. “If I don’t use my lyrium then you won’t be consumed…possessed…whatever this is,” indicating to the pair of them, Prue nodded in understanding but frowned in concern.

“ _You cannot stop using your lyrium, Gwen_ ,” her hand rose, cupping Gwen’s cheek. “ _The lyrium is as much a part of you as your blood is. As much as it may hurt and change you, it is still a part of you.”_

“But I don’t want it…if it means you will disappear,” tears started to prick and collect at the corners of her eyes. Prue knew Gwen’s feelings ran deep, she could feel them in herself. It was a strange sensation, to have such foreign thoughts and feelings, but she revelled in their contrast and complexity.

“ _This merge may very well take months, Gwen. Years perhaps, for now I am going nowhere, so you need not worry, there are more pressing matters at hand._

“But?” Gwen paused, feeling Prue lean forward and place a small kiss on her forehead, holding her and reassuring her everything would be fine. She relaxed, letting the calming warmth of her spirit friend embrace her. Chase away her doubts and troubles; for the first time, she could feel herself relax.

* * *

They made it back to Redcliffe.

From the hill, the group could see the approaching mages coming across by boat. Gwen kept to herself, Barghest close by her side. The revelation from last night had shaken her. Now her friends new her secret, if only in part, but also, she discovered her closest friend was going to fade away, the more she used her powers.

Walking back to the castle was only growing her anxiety; with how the group took the news of her powers and their origins, in addition to her refusal to explain when she had gained this gift, what do they think of her now?

It was like before all over again. Her teen years were coming back on her and her encounter with the demons wasn’t helping.

Suddenly, a prick caught her palm. Gasping, she looked surprised to find Barghest had nipped her, now he nuzzled her side and licked her fingers. Was he helping her? Gwen immediately thought back to her home, to the aged Boxer whom had been her father’s childhood companion. Many times ol’Cabal would come running to her when she started crying, when she felt depression or about to have an anxiety attack. Barghest was doing the exact same thing Cabal had.

Stopping, the Mabari took the chance to jump and catch her shoulders, lifting himself to stand almost her full height. Like Cabal, his large muzzle nuzzled and rubbed her chest and cheeks.

“Gwen?” Jocelyn had turned back, having heard her companion’s footfalls had gone silent. She watched how the Mabari lavished attention on Gwen and, despite any lingering confusion or shock, embraced the hound and accepted everything. The armoured woman approached, placing her hand on Gwen’s arm. She sighed, seeing Gwen’s face almost stained with tears and dog slobber. “Come on, it’s almost done.”

Nodding, wiping her face with her sleeve, Barghest returned to his position but seemed to be keeping closer than before.

Baldor watched on, knowing something was up. Before he could ask Jocelyn what had happened, the human waved him off. Save it for later.

Meeting the mages, it was time to talk strategy. Moving onto the castle together, the Circle mages discussed with Alistair, Wynne and Cameron what could be done and what lengths they could get away with.

“We have brought Lyrium and begun preparations for the ritual, we can start anytime,” First Enchanter Irving stated, his mages moving about the throne room and putting their preparations in place.

“Any last-minute advice before we throw anyone into the arse-end of hell?” Baldor asked, causing the aged enchanter to cough at his crude remark.

“It truly depends on the manner of demon,” Irving explained, turning to address the rest of the group. His eyes scanned the mages; Wynne, Morrigan and Cameron. All would’ve been better equipped and well suited to such a crossing, but his eyes fell on Gwen too; something that put her off even more. “It sounds like a spirit of greed and desire, of the more powerful in the hierarchy.” Now Gwen really wished it wasn’t her to be chosen. Having to deal with two Desire demons in her mind was one too many.

“It will likely engage you in dialog and tempt you with an offer. Avoid it. Making deals with demons never turn out well.” The group agreed.

“And only one of us can go through?” Jocelyn asked, not liking the idea of choosing one to go through alone.

“Yes. We haven’t sufficient lyrium at present to send more than one mage into the Fade,” Irving sighed, but his eyes once again turned to Gwen. “Or one rogue.”

“Indeed, send one who is still a novice in combat and her own unique talents. Perhaps the demon will leave out of pity,” Gwen knew Morrigan’s scathing remark wasn’t intended to be hurtful, or maybe it was, it was hard to tell. But she was right, and Gwen couldn’t agree more.

“And yet it is her ability to banish demons that could very well save the boy,” Irving’s omission caused the court’s eyes to fall on Gwen. Her anxiety rose as the Arlessa, Connor’s mother, shot across the room.

“Is this true? You can save my Connor without…” she trailed off, but left enough to get the idea across.

“I mean, yes but I-I,” Gwen tried to explain but it simply brought the others in. Arguments thrown about whether she was capable of doing so, if it was just a fluke or she wasn’t able to replicate the purge. Leliana believed she could, as did Wynne and Jocelyn. However, Sten and Alistair, Cameron and Baldor didn’t believe it would be right or safe. There was so much about her power and its origins that could only cause more problems or get her placed in harms way. Morrigan seemed the only one neutral to this, neither agreeing nor denying her capabilities.

Everything was bubbling over again, the increasing arguments and shouts dragged Gwen closer to the breaking point, until…

“I believe she can do it,” the arguments stopped, turning all eyes onto the new voice. Cailan, still wrapped in bandages and using a crutch to support himself, hobbled in with a healer at his side.

“My king…” the Mages looked on in awe, the First Enchanter barely believing his eyes, Wynne included. “But…how?”

“Thanks to this woman,” Cailan approached Gwen, his handsome smile still breaking through despite his wounds. “My lady Gwen, you are so much more capable than you think.”

“But…” she paused, unable to look at the others. “What if I fail? What if I’m not strong enough?”

“You managed to carry an injured man, in full armour, on the back of a Halla no less, to those who could help him,” he smiled. “Someone capable of those odds, could easily fend off a demon.” Gwen did do all that, but as she tried to reason that it was the heat of the moment, her mind couldn’t bring up any reason to make it true.

“ _Because it wasn’t. That was your kindness, your courage, and your resourcefulness. Your lyrium merely aided you, but you chose your path._ ” Prue whispered in her ear, feeling her sullen soul grow a little. Feeling the king place his hand on her shoulders, it was as if a page was turned or a fire had ignited.

“First Enchanter…” she turned to the group, nodding her head. “We might not need that lyrium.”

Moving into the circle the enchanters made, Gwen knelt as the others spaced out and watched. She knew they all had their concerns, for good or bad she couldn’t say, but a small surprise came from Baldor, stepping forward but was held back by Sten.

“Calm your mind child, we shall begin when you’re ready,” Irving took his place, monitoring his enchanters.

“I am, and I promise to bring Connor and the Arl back,” turning to the Arlessa and the Arl’s brother, Bann Teagan, they both looked worried but hopeful too. The mages started chanting, Irving took the bowl of lyrium and placed it before Gwen. Even though she knew she could slip into the Fade without it, it was more to reassure Irving that they could pull her out.

“Come back, lass.” It was the last thing she heard before her eyes closed.

* * *

When she opened them, the landscape had changed again.

It was the sickly, poisoned Fade like it was in the tower. Floating islands and a miasma that churned her stomach.

“ _This way_ ,” Prue materialised beside her, her gown flowing and whipping in an invisible wind. Standing, checking her daggers were still with her, she followed Prue. Coming around a bend, a ghostly figure took Gwen by surprised, followed by another ghost. But the pair appeared as a young boy and an older man.

“Wait, is that Connor?” Gwen asked, watching the boy walk about oblivious to her. But then another boy appeared, identical to the last but walking in a different direction. The same went for the older man. It were as if triplets or quadruplets were walking about, disappearing and reappearing.

“ _Yes, because their minds and souls are trapped here, they wander aimless and numerous. Taking every path at the same time as well as taking none and remaining in place_ ,” Prue looked on in woe, watching as the father and son walked so close to each other but kept so far apart by the demon’s magic.

Their voices called out, calling out each other’s name or to anyone who might hear them but to no avail. No one could hear them, and if they could they didn’t heed nor care. But they were here now, and someone will heed their pleas.

“Look there!” Gwen shot forward, Prue easily catching up with her. On top of a hill was a destroyed study, but standing within it was the sleeping mind of the Arl.

“You there! Have you seen my son? I can…I can hear him, but I cannot find him. This blasted fog has me turning in circles!” the Arl paced and hissed, angered he couldn’t get anywhere nor see his son.

“A demon has trapped you here, Arl Eamon. You’re dreaming in the Fade,” Gwen tried to explain, hoping that telling him it’s a dream might break through to him. It took a moment, but some of the Arl’s doubles disappeared, his eyes turning on her. He blinked, as if a bright light had flashed in his eyes before it settled.

“Are…Are you a spirit?” he asked, in shock at seeing her.

“N-No, my Arl,” Gwen replied, a little unnerved by his question. “I was sent in by the Mages from the Circle. We’re trying to free you and your son.”

The Arl blinked again, trying to clear his eyes but seemed to give up or accept what he was seeing.

“My son? Why? Why is he trapped here too?” he asked, moving forward to her.

“Connor tried to help you, a demon is now possessing him,” Gwen admitted, no sense lying to the man, given it would be the most logical reason as to why they’re stuck here.

“What? Possessed? Then…we must help him! Is that why you’re here?” his eyes ignited with hope, grabbing her shoulders.

Something snapped, a sharp gasp escaped Gwen as something between them connected. The Arl froze, surprised by the snap too but seemed to calm. Calm to the point that he almost collapsed in Gwen’s arms. Surprised, she managed to urge the dreaming man to the bed in the study, laying him down.

“Is he okay?” she asked, turning to Prue.

“ _You are having more of an effect here,_ ” she smiled, placing a hand on the Arl’s head. “ _The demon’s hold on his has weakened. Your will to protect and save the Arl and his son has unconsciously severed many of the threads tying them here. With a focused mind, he may have been freed completely._ ”

That was a relief, it just meant she could find Connor and set him free.

Leaving the Arl, Gwen pushed on. Large portals connected the many islands, each one leading to an avatar of the demon. It tried to make itself look like Connor, trying to confuse and dissuade her. She couldn’t tell if it was the lyrium allowing her to see through the façade or this demon wasn’t the best actor; each Connor was more a fake than the last, losing patience too soon to try and trick her. More demons came, lesser demons called by her will. It wasn’t easy, she couldn’t just go about banishing them without weakening herself; she needed all the energy she could muster to ensure she could free Connor.

 _“This is the last portal,_ ” Prue suddenly said, coming to the third portal. “ _Can you feel her presence on the other side?_ ” Gwen paused, taking a moment. She could feel something, like a heat radiating from the portal and brushing over her. “ _The closer you get, the more the lyrium will warn you. Push back the pain, you can do this_.”

“So long as I can figure out how to banish her before then,” Gwen had said it more to herself than to her spirit companion. But it was true, even as she battled the other demons, the answer to solving this ability eluded her.

Stepping through the portal, she came upon the last island. Just ahead, standing in a circle lined in twisted dead trees, was the demon. Fire rolled over her tattoos; this was definitely the demon. Stepping into the circle, Prue’s pained cry pulled Gwen back. It looked like a barrier preventing her from entering.

“No more illusions,” turning back, Gwen could see the Desire demon step forward, her hands resting on her. “Now we meet face-to-face. You see my true form and stand in my domain,” her eyes rove over Gwen but shot needles at Prue trapped outside of the circle. “Except you~”

“Leave her alone!” Gwen moved between them, keep Prue out of her line of sight. Desire stared her down, smirking and licking her lips.

“I have no wish to engage your power, nor should you be so eager to engage mine,” she purred, her hands roaming over her own body and taking each step like a model would. “Perhaps we should converse instead?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Gwen glared, her hand itching to her dagger.

“Not even to know why another of my kind seeks you?” her words caused Gwen to pause, staring at the demon. “Indeed~ She travels great lengths to find you~”

“ _Don’t listen to her, Gwen!_ ” Prue called, pressing against the barrier.

“I can tell you why, the reason she follows your steps, why she haunts your dreams and how…she brought you here~” the last comment brought Gwen pause. This demon, whoever she was talking about, had brought her here?

“No…it was Tevinter Mages that brought me here, not a demon!” Gwen argued, feeling stupid for even believing her lies for a moment.

“Ah~ they may have formulated the plan but it was demons they conned into bringing those from a world beyond. Demons who perished to bring their quarry, for nothing,” she hissed, but turned a coy smile back at her. “But the demon who brought you yet lives, gathering strength, she will claim you…but I can help you, for a price.”

“ _Gwen!_ ” Prue moved franticly, moving to different parts of the barrier, trying to find any kind of weakness.

“I will tell you how she brought you here, how you can get home and, in exchange~” her claws caressed her skin, setting her lyrium aflame as she drew closer. “Let me keep the boy and revel in the wonders of the mortal world.”

“NO!”

Both Prue and the demon were shocked; Gwen glared down on the demon; did she really think she was so low as to sacrifice a child? She may miss home, she may want to go home more than anything, but she never, ever, abandons people she’s trying to help. She made a promise to the Arl, and she was going to keep it.

Gwen grabbed the demoness’ arm, holding her in place as her lyrium ignited. The realm was bathed in a brilliant light, purging the darkness and corruption from the plains. The demoness spluttered, she tried to pry her hand away but Gwen kept her grip, putting all her weight behind her.

“Insolent whelp! Let me go!”

“No! You’ve tormented this boy long enough! I won’t let you hurt him anymore!!” She had to focus, keep her mind on what she was doing. She could feel the lyrium working, moving with her thoughts and attacking the demon.

The desire demon shrieked, her long claws striking down and forcing Gwen away. What neither expected was Gwen to still have a hold on her arm. Desire spluttered again, looking down at the stump replacing her arm while Gwen threw it aside like it had shocked her.

“You little bitch! No more games, I’ll gut you!” Desire charged, her power radiating around them and bringing back the realms previous corruption, Gwen managed to dodge and roll out of her path. Drawing her daggers, Gwen ducked and struck wherever she could reach.

The demon, however, was clever. She hailed spells and darkness in her vain attempt to catch Gwen, only managing nick and grazes as she narrowly avoided her attacks. Gwen could feel herself getting tired, missing her rolls and getting deeper cuts from the demon’s attacks. She had to think of something, she needed to defeat this demon.

“When I through with you, not even your precious Maker will be able to heal you!” She sneered, cackling as she hailed whips of fire, sending Gwen crashing into the barrier. She panted, coughing up some blood.

“ _Don’t give up, you can beat her_ ,”

She was going to do it, she had to. If she didn’t, Connor and the Arl would be lost forever. Getting back onto her feet, a sense of serenity rippled through her tattoos. Like a wave, renewed energy flowed. Looking down, Gwen realised she had grabbed a strange blue growth to get herself up. It must’ve been lyrium, how it was here she couldn’t say, but it restored the energy she had lost in the battle, and more.

It was like the darkspawn battle with the Hawke family. The strange calm, everything slowing down as her mind homed in to focus on a single point; the charging demon. Her body began to glow, the lyrium within her wrapped around her daggers once again, runes appearing on the blades.

Her knees bents, crouching low. Her lessons whispering on her stance and form. The thread was pulled tight, drawn back like a bow string.

“DIE~!”

She shot forward, her body a ghost as she surged forward. The demoness’ claws sailed over, passing through her form like slicing the air. Her blades, however, were not transparent. Their blades grew, curving with the forged metal and formed sharp like twin sickles, slicing with mere flicks of her wrists.

Skidding to a stop, a soft breath passing her lips forced time back on track, numerous cuts bleed out from the demon’s flesh. Her arms fell limp, head sliding from her shoulders before her entire erupted into lights. In her place, Connor stood. Shaking, Gwen walked back to the young boy; had she saved him from Desire, or had her actions taken his life too?

“ _He sleeps_ ,” Prue cooed, free to enter the ring in the wake of the demon’s death. Resting a hand on Connor’s shoulder, he slumped forward into her awaiting arms. “ _His mind has been strained, though young he managed to keep himself distant from Desire’s web. You’ve severed his ties completely. He’s free. And now, will be safe with his gifts._ ”

“Good…good…” Gwen felt exhaustion take over, her eyes growing heavy as the world spun around her. Prue gasped but turned mute as all colour and light disappeared.

* * *

“So, it’s over.”

The voice called her back from the abyss. Gwen groaned, sitting up on something soft before something heavy dropped on her. Alerted awake, she couldn’t stifle a snicker as Barghest flopped on top on her. The Mabari whined, slobbering kisses and nuzzling her neck and face. However, his actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. A flash of armour fled from the room, turning her head despite Barghest’s best efforts to keep her attention on him.

“Gwen, you’re awake,” Baldor and Cameron stepped into the small room, followed by the guard and Bann Teagan.

“Are you okay?” Cameron asked, sitting on the bed beside her.

“Better, what happened?” looking around the room, it appeared to be a guest room given the lack of anyone living within in. Bann Teagan approached, bowing his head to her. “Is Connor?”

“He’s fine,” Teagan smiled, glancing out of the door to catch Connor running around. “Connor is his old self. He does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing,” Gwen might’ve argued that, but given what the boy had gone through, she could see the silver lining. “I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle of Magi’s tower for…training, once the war is over. It’s odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things.”

“It’s not really a bad thing is it?” Gwen asked, sitting up with Cameron’s help. “I mean, he could do great things, maybe even become a healer. And with the demon gone,”

“There is still the chance he could be possessed again,” Teagan sighed, his hopefulness escaping his face. “No mage is truly safe.”

“No. He will,” eyes turned to Gwen, seeing her own expression remain fixed. “I can’t explain how, but I can assure you that Connor won’t be bothered by Demons again.”

“How can you be sure?” a woman asked, another entering the room. She wore finery unlike Gwen had seen in her travels, and her accent made Gwen think of a French woman. “How can you be sure my son won’t be possessed again.” Gwen knew talking about spirits and the fade isn’t always the best subject, but she remembered what Prue had said.

“A spirit told me.” Her omission put Teagan and the woman on edge. “A spirit of light and purity, she said he would be safe with his gifts.”

“Truly?” the woman asked, disbelieving and yet hopeful.

“Yes. Something about bonds being severed or…I’m sorry, after fighting the demon I kinda blacked out, but I know she said that.” The woman sighed, relief washing over her as Teagan helped her to a chair.

“I owe you my deepest thanks. I had nearly…I can scarcely believe Connor is the boy he once was,” she smiled, almost tearing up as she relaxed on a chair.

“There is still the matter of Jowen. His poisoning began this whole mess, yet he lives. I must decide what becomes of him,” Teagan hissed. Prompting Gwen to perk up.

“The arl, is he okay too?” turning to Cameron and Baldor, neither looked happy.

“Old man is still asleep, and getting worse,” Baldor sighed.

“Even with all the healing magic and poultices I can create, he has yet to show any improvement,” Cameron sighed.

“That’s why we came to check on ya, lass,” Baldor smiled, helping Gwen from the bed. She only now noticed she wasn’t wearing her warden rogue armour but instead a loose shift. “We need ta discuss our next move, and don’t worry about your armour. Cailan wanted it mended.”

Something stirred in Gwen, after all this time, and feeling so secure in the armour, she just couldn’t feel the want to put it back on.

“No.” She was done lying, she was done putting on a front. If this battle with the demon taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t keep hiding and running. She couldn’t be selfish now and keep secrets from her friends. “Don’t.”

“What? Why?” Cameron asked, standing with her. The woman and Teagan looked on confused.

“Because…I’m not a warden anymore.”


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

* * *

 

Gwen’s omission reached the entire group

Taking roust in the ramparts again, Gwen looked over the courtyard. Jocelyn, Alistair, Cameron and Baldor took a small corner to discuss their next move, one she was not partial to know that she was not a warden. Leliana had taken to a small shrine and praying, Sten had taken to sharpening his current greatsword while Morrigan kept to her own small corner of the courtyard.

She could already hear those little voices rising in the back of her mind. Sounding close to her friends, each of them calling her out and all her negative emotions and fears spilling from their words. She felt like dirt, lower than low. She had kept everything from them, for fear of judgement and fear of what they might do given how they spoke of magic, spirits and demons. And now she had no idea what they thought, how they felt. Anxiety pumped through her, her heart picking up as her worry fuelled more out of the voices, but one came out, one chilling voice that made her freeze.

“ _Maybe they would be better off without me_.”

“The maiden returns,” the real voice caught her off, looking up to see Cailan again. “What troubles you?” coming to sit beside her, Cailan looked over the ramparts to see her companions.

“I hurt them,” Gwen moaned, looking away from the king but found her eyes falling on her dagger. She closed her eyes, knowing that voice would come out again. “I didn’t mean to keep it from them but…I couldn’t think of any other time to tell them or if…”

“If they would understand?” she turned back to Cailan, hiding under her hair. Only now did she realise how long her hair had grown.  

“Having a spirit fused with me was one thing; they could’ve pegged me an abomination and let the Templars have me. They didn’t, but now they know…I’m not and never was a Warden, it just feels worse than in the Fade.”

“Why would you think they would hate you?” he asked, remaining where he sat, his eyes kind and patient. Almost the exact opposite of the happy and charged King she had seen at Ostegar.

“Because everything in this place is so…” she sighed, turning to the King. “Magic is feared, and anything remotely linked to it is branded evil. Having the ability to cure something no one can escape, then turn around and say it can’t be used in excess because it puts one life in harm’s way… it’s frustrating I know but… everything that has been happening… why did it happen to me? What did I do?” She tried to wipe the tears pouring out of her eyes. “I hate feeling like this…”

A weight suddenly pressed around her shoulders, causing her to jerk up, seeing the King had drawn closer to her. She shook, trying to compose herself from what the King was doing.

“They don’t hate you. Life can throw any number of injuries and threats at us, including news and words we can’t accept or manage,” Cailan nodded, his words coming from a place of understanding and experience. “Those with true strength take all in stride, something I know that sets us apart,” looking down on Gwen, she stifled a gasp. The King appeared older than he was since she last saw him. Everything that occurred from Ostegar must’ve caught up with the King, she could see in his eyes the same distraught, sadness and frustration she had seen in her own every time she looked in a mirror. “You’ve been through more than many, yet here you stand.”

She wasn’t strong, not on her own. She knew that now but hearing Cailan show his understanding, show a genuine concern and care, her heart knitted her scars together. With a smile, she returned the King’s hug. He had been more than kind to her, and she couldn’t be happier for the boost.

“Gwen,” perking up when her name was called, both herself and the King turned to find Wynne approaching. “It’s time to leave.”

“Hold a moment, Enchanter Wynne,” Cailan stood where Wynne bowed, watching as he helped Gwen to her feet. “Warden or no, she won’t be leaving without suitable armour.” Standing, Gwen and Wynne watched as the King took the lead, showing them down to the courtyard and to the resident blacksmith. Curious, Gwen stepped in and gasped at seeing the new set of armour the King had mentioned.

It looked very much like the warden rogue armour she had been wearing but the griffin epitaph was removed and left bare. Reinforced leather and hard forged sheet plating and scale chainmail. It was a product of precision.

“Cailan…I-I,” Gwen had no idea what to say but Cailan only smile and offered her the ensemble.

“Go change, you are needed,” Cailan turned and left, leaving Gwen to stare at the armour. The King had been far more than kind to her. Was it all because she had prevented his death? As she pulled on soft leather and sculpted steel, she too a moment to really reflect the fact she had saved his life. Saved the life of a King.

“Gwen,” pulled from her thoughts again, fastening the large buckle, she turned to Leliana. “We’re about to leave.”

“Where...are we going?” she asked, grabbing her daggers and bow, sliding them into their proper holsters on her hips and back.

“We must find the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” Leliana lead on, Gwen keeping pace beside her. “Lady Isolde has already informed us of her Knights finding a lead, we must head to Brother Genitivi’s residence in Denerim.”

“But, isn’t that that capital? Wouldn’t Loghain have his men on the lookout for us?” Gwen wasn’t too keen on that plan. Walking into enemy territory was one thing but to stroll into their main base of operations was another.

“We will not all go into the city, only those Loghain will not know of such as myself, Wynne, Morrigan and Sten,” Gwen perked up, everyone not in attendance were herself and the other wardens. But the reasoning clicked, as Leliana had said both herself and the wardens were all seen by Loghain and he would know them by appearance. “We have planned to set up camp in the forest near the city and while one group heads in, the other will remain.” Understanding the plan, but liking it no more than before, Gwen turned to Barghast as he scampered over, nuzzling her legs and remaining close.

If she hadn’t known any better, she could’ve sworn he was a trained care animal. The way he nuzzled and showed affection, the way he would seem to know what she was thinking and distract her from it. Kneeling, she hugged the intelligent beast, scratching behind his ears as he panted and yipped.

The last of the supplies were collected as Gwen finally rejoined the group, gathering her own pack and a fresh quiver of arrows. Her eyes strayed, looking over the others. Morrigan remained the same as usual, casting a secret smile to her while Sten remained his same stoic self, though his scowl seemed to deepen as his eyes scanned over her, turning away without a word. It wasn’t any difference but looking over to the other wardens, only Baldor offered her a smile. Cameron seemed indifferent but had a twinkle of curiosity and caution in his eyes. Jocelyn seemed conflicted, unsure of how to respond or engage while Alistair seemed distant.

The voices whispered again, turning Gwen away from them and ignored her hair falling over her eyes. Keeping her mind forward, she followed the group out of the castle gates and out past the town. Finding the main road, their journey began; but not a few minutes up the road was there a huge crash.

“Someone must be in trouble!” Leliana called, urging the others forward to grant aid. Jocelyn, Cameron, Alistair and Leliana ran ahead while the others trailed behind. Coming around the shrouded bend, the group found Alistair searching the bushes, Leliana and Cameron helping a merchant and Jocelyn trying to guide a mule back to the wagon.

“What happened?” Wynne shot forward, offering her aid to the merchant but the man waved her off, thanking her for the concern.

“My apologies, one of those darkspawn creatures spooked my mule, sent my cart into this ditch, which is only part of my problem,” the merchant sighed, looking over the scene of his destroyed cart and his shaking mule. “Now what do I do?”

“What do you mean by ‘part’ of ya problem?” Baldor asked, standing beside Gwen.

“Oh where are my manners, allow me to introduce myself: Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service,” the merchant bowed. For having a rather French sounding name, he appeared to be a Fereldan. “I don’t normally take the route, but with the war I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains.” Most in the group didn’t seem to take the merchant at his word; it was one thing to travel the mountain roads to escape war but the idea of ‘good weather’ in such a hazardous and fickle temperature it was hard to believe. “Sadly, I’ve had neither,” as many of them had figured. “This trip had been one miserable disaster after another,” Gwen noticed a sudden twinkle crossed the merchant’s eyes as he looked at each one within the group. A small smile curled up as if he had just found something interesting and valuable. “I don’t suppose you’d…consider helping a fellow out?”

“Figure this would come out sooner or later,” Baldor rolled his eyes, having pegged the man from the start.

“Really, do we have the time to tither about with this lout?” Morrigan groaned. “The cart is upright, and his beast found, let us move on.”

“But there might be a way this could help us all,” Jocelyn added, looking over the group. Gwen could feel her eyes land on her but only for the briefest moment. She still couldn’t look her in the eye, bringing her spirits down lower. But while the others still seemed unsure of what to do, Gwen took a tentative step forward.

“How, exactly, could we help you, Mr de Grosbois?” she asked, turning attention back onto her. Feeling their eyes on her made her skin crawl worse than when a demon was nearby.

“Well, my lady, of all the other things that went wrong, the worse is this artefact I bought in Jader,” moving to his cart, rummaging for a moment, the merchant pulled out a long rod. To Gwen it looked more like a wand made from marble with a wood-polished handle. “It’s a ‘control rod’, I’m told. For a golem. No point in me keeping it, however, as I’ll never get to use it…but maybe you could.” He offered the rod to Gwen, insisting she take it from him.

“Hold a moment. Lass,” Baldor approached, placing his hand on her reaching arm. “What’s the catch here?” the merchant paused, almost disappointed Gwen was stopped. “Not just anyone can get their mits on a golem control rod. And I’ll bet my beard that is from an original golem forced during the First Blight.”

“Right, yes…I suppose it is a catch, isn’t it?” Felix mumbled, looking over the rod himself before turning back. “The catch is that the golem didn’t come with the rod. It’s supposed to be down in a village down south, waiting to be activated,” he explained, pointing back the way they had come. “Even if I could get down there, which I can’t, I understand the place has been overrun by darkspawn.” Most groaned or rolled their eyes, seeing just how much of a ‘catch’ this rod was. “That’s not an issue for adventurous types like yourselves, surely. Or I’m hoping that’s so, at least.”

“How do we even know this rod will work?” Alistair asked, stepping up keeping a pace aside from Gwen, her heart drooping a little more are he still seemed to be avoiding her.

“The fellow I bought it from is a longstanding contact,” Felix nodded, addressing Alistair. “He didn’t want to come to Fereldan, however, with all our…troubles.” It was an understandable fact merchants and trade would be congested and halted due to Loghain’s war and the Darkspawn rising from the Deeproads. “He said he got it from the man who owned this golem. But to be honest, I have no idea if it will work,” looking over the rod one more time, he offered it to Alistair. “Hence the low, low price,” he chuckled, nervous as to what would be said. “What do you say?”

“How much?” Alistair asked, still seemingly unconvinced.

“Nothing. I just don’t want to have to lug around something that might be taken for a gemstone by some bandits,” he lowered his head, grabbing the other end of the rod in thought. “To be honest, I don’t even know if it’ll be useful to you. I paid too much to simply throw it away.” But Alistair remained unconvinced. Shaking his head, he turned to regroup and continue on to Denerim, apologising to the merchant for being unable to help. Downtrodden, the merchant moved to leave but a small jingle of coins turned him back. Gwen held a small pouch of coins, the money the King had rewarded her with in case she needed it. She had counted one hundred gold in the pouch, keeping the rest for an emergency, before she had offered it.

“It seems a little unfair you bought this and aren’t able to use it,” she offered a small smile, watching the merchant stare at the pouch and herself. “I know it might not be enough to cover what you paid but I can’t just take it.” Placing the pouch in his free hand, she grasped the other end of the rod, surprised by how light it was.

“T-thank you, my lady,” Felix bowed, still stunned by her kindness. “As I mentioned before, you’ll find the golem down south, in a town called Honnleath. I’ll mark it on your map,” nodding, she pulled her copy of the map and watched Felix mark it. “Just hold up the rod and say ‘Dulef gar’. That will wake the golem up…” before he could finish, Baldor coughed to get her attention. Thanking Felix and sliding the rod into her belt, she caught up to the others.

“Ya didn’t need to pay him,” Baldor sighed, walking beside her. “He was practically giving it away.”

“Just didn’t seem fair,” she added, watching the others walk on ahead. Baldor could see she was still feeling the aftermath from back in Redcliffe. Taking a moment, he patted her back softly.

“They’ll come around,” Baldor turned up to her, looking back into her mournful look. “Give’em time, we did when Alistair dropped that little bitty about him being a King’s bastard.”

“Wait, what?!!”

* * *

Four and a half days of walking finally brought them to Denerim. Setting up camp on the outskirts of the large city, it was decided that Leliana, Wynne, Sten and Morrigan would travel into the city and find Brother Genitivi’s home while the wardens and Gwen remained at camp.

The tension was thick enough for a sword to slice through it. Gwen remained distant from the others, petting Barghast and fiddling with her new bow and daggers.

Baldor sat sharpening his axe while watching Gwen on her own. His eyes turned back to Jocelyn polishing her family’s shield, Cameron fiddling with his new stave while Alistair pawed over a map, marking where the horde could be and devising paths to avoid them.

“Oh, bollocks to this!” Baldor’s sudden exclamation turned their heads. “I’ve had it.”

“Have had what?” Alistair asked, concerned for his fellow warden.

“Don’t play dumb,” Baldor hissed, pointing toward Gwen. “You’ve been givin’ the lass the cold shoulder for the last four days.” Alistair’s concern turned neutral, turning away but left no choice as Baldor stayed in his line of sight. “You can’t seriously hold this against her.”

“It’s not a matter of holding it against her,” Jocelyn stepped in, her sword sheathed and shield propped next to Sirius.

“Then what?” Baldor turned to the noblewoman, holding her gaze. “Was the fact she saved herself from corruption, the fact she didn’t suffer as we did in the Joining? That she will not suffer as we do now?” his eyes turned back, landing on Alistair. “Or is it she was with Duncan in the battle?”

Gwen turned. Was that all this was about? Not the fact she had been saved from the taint by Prue but because she had been with Duncan while they were sent to the tower. She rose, turning to Alistair and the others.

“Baldor, we know nothing of her abilities and they seemed to be growing in manners we have no way of predicting,” Cameron spoke up, cradling his stave. “Lyrium can be a wild and unpredictable source. And Gwen has now shown she can purge a possession and even the Blight. There is no telling where her powers may lead to.”

“That may be, but can she be held accountable on a fate not her own?” Baldor turned his gaze down, showing only for a split second an emotion Gwen couldn’t catch. “Alistair, best you speak your peace, get it out and maybe we can put this to the Stone.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Alistair turned, heading to the firewood and tend the fire.

“H-How…” her voice cut sound, freezing Alistair and the others. “H-how can you just say that?” Gwen stepped forward, Barghest at her side whimpering. “How can you say there’s nothing when the last four days have been hell?”

“Gwen, I…”

“NO!” she hissed, causing the warden to jump. Turning, his eyes widened seeing Gwen grip her arms, her nails digging into her tattoos and causing a slight glow to rise from them. “I’ve done nothing! Nothing to deserve all of this! I didn’t ask to be brought here against my will! I didn’t want to be made into some sick magic experiment! I’ve been trapped here for months, in a world where having magic or even been accused of magic will get you imprisoned or worse!” tears welled, feeling her anxiety of the last few days coming out. “I wished I could’ve saved Duncan! Every day I still see what that Ogre did to him, how I couldn’t have saved him!” her throat clenched, pushing back the gore the memory pulled forward, taking a breath to ease her stomach. Gwen gasped, looking up to see Alistair holding her shoulder. His arms pulled her in, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

Nothing was said. Gwen wanted to speak but her words caught short in her throat. She held the warden, returning his gesture as it lasted only a moment more before Alistair stepped back.

“Everything…all that’s happened since Ostegar… how could any of us have known all this would happen,” he shook his head, perking as Gwen released a short giggle.

“Life…is never what we want it to be. I’ve learnt that lesson the hard way,” Gwen nodded, looking to all of them. “I know, my powers are unpredictable, but I know I can at least use them for the better. I want to help. I might have nowhere else to go nor any way of getting home. But you’re all my friends, and I want to help.”

“And help is what we sorely lack,” Cameron stood, turning to his fellow wardens. “If this matter has been put to rest, I would suggest between myself and our mage companions that Gwen receive further training as we travel.”

“Under supervision,” Jocelyn added, agreeing to the idea. “There is still much we don’t know not just about your origins, Gwen, but from what we saw in your Fade prison, there is more going on than even you are aware of.” Gwen nodded. However, blunt she was being, it was just Jocelyn’s way of saying she was just in as much danger as any of them. “Alistair, perhaps if you were to train another in the ways of the templars, there will be more of capable of providing assistance.”

“Are you making a request, Lady Jocelyn?” Alistair questioned. It almost startled Gwen how easy this man could turn the tone of a conversation from serious to amusing. Both he and Jocelyn seemed to share a joke, smiling between them.

“Only if you are willing, your Highness,” her mocking bow had ended the entire exchange, both nobles moving aside to begin training. A hand took her shoulder again, turning to find Cameron in Alistair’s place.

Ushered to the far side of camp, Gwen caught a look from Baldor. His warm smile, framed by his thick beard, left Gwen feeling warmth in her chest. Throughout this entire ordeal; with the mages, with her tryst in the Fade and through all her stumbling, the Dwarven man had been at her back. He had sided with her and helped her. It was only now she had wondered, why?

“Come along, Gwen,” brought out of her thoughts, Gwen watched as Cameron took a seat cross-legged on the soft grass. Sitting in front of him, she mimicked how he crossed his legs. “Now, let’s begin.”

* * *

As the sun drew closer to the horizon, the group returned from the city. Gwen was the first to notice them approaching, waving as Baldor returned with more wood, Jocelyn and Alistair finished their training and Cameron pulled out of his meditative state.

“So, where is Brother Genitivi?” Alistair asked, approaching the weary group. Gwen moved to share out the stew she and Baldor were making. A strange mixture of edible roots, fish and wild herbs, which had turned out to be rather delicious.

“Brother Genitivi was not in his home, only an imposter,” Sten replied, standing aside from the group. His eyes trailed to Gwen, she could feel him watching her and tried to ignore it. She knew some would still be weary of her, it would take time.

“Indeed, truly an outcome we had not foreseen,” Morrigan purred, eyeing the bowl handed to her but seemed to accept it if it came from Gwen.

“An imposter? Who was he?” Jocelyn took a seat, nursing her own bowl.

“We believe he is from some strange draconic cult,” Wynne sighed, passing over a small diary to Alistair. “We also manager to procure Brother Genitivi’s notes regarding the Urn and perhaps it’s last known location.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go. Hopefully he’s still alive,” Alistair nodded.

“Where are we heading to?” Gwen asked, picking at a piece of fish in her stew.

“Back towards Redcliffe. This place called ‘Haven’ is between Redcliffe and Orzammar,” Alistair placed down a map, pointing to their destination. It was a long trip, given how it took them four days to get to Denerim, this journey would take them at least five.

Everyone agreed, once they’ve found the ashes and gained their foothold with the noble families and get allies on their side. As everyone finished their meal, Gwen moved toward her tent as a hand took her arm. Turning, she was met with a concerned Wynne and Leliana.

“Are you okay?” Leliana asked, taking a glance over to the others before focusing on Gwen.

“We’re good,” Gwen smiled, knowing what their concern was for. “It was Baldor that broke the tension, but we’re worked through out tensions. I still think the main worry is my powers,” raising her hands, staring at her tattoos and how they glowed and pooled in her palms. “Cameron has offered to help be get some control, adding on what the Tranquil taught me before all this started.”

“The allow me to aid you too,” Wynne smiled, taking her hands. “With no tranquil among us, I believe the knowledge of two mages will help greatly.”

“Three if Morrigan feels inclined,” Leliana added, sparing a glance over to Morrigan’s small hut, watching her tend her own small fire. “Though I would tread light where she is concerned.”

“She’s not all bad,” Gwen sighed, looking over to Morrigan. As if she were aware of her glance, Morrigan looked up and locked eyes. Nothing needed to be said or done, Morrigan merely blinked before turning away, focusing on her fire. “But any help would be appreciated.”

“Then allow me to offer mine,” Leliana smiled, “I noticed you favour the bow and dagger, you could use a little work with your blades.”

“Thanks, Jocelyn had taught me most of what she could with daggers,” Gwen smiled, taking a breath as the overwhelming feeling of tears threatened to fall. Touched by their help, just maybe she could become an aid rather than a burden. Both nodded, smiling and bidding Gwen a good night as they retired to their tents. Barghest eagerly took his place near her pillow as she stripped out of her more restrictive armour pieces. Allowed a night without a patrol cycle, Gwen couldn’t wait for a good night’s sleep.

* * *

Over the next few days, Gwen spent time with Cameron and Wynne – both showing her methods of control and traversing the Fade. From this, Gwen fortified her strange ‘Fade step’ as Cameron had named it. Shifting between the veil to gain ground or a flanking advantage. It didn’t provide any manner of chill as the Elven Mage claimed it should, Wynne demonstrating and showing a long path of ice following behind her.

Wynne taught her a few techniques to hone and improve her production of power. Many times, she had affirmed her belief Gwen’s abilities were more of a Tranquils or even a Templars. She could easily dispel magic, focus on cutting through different spell effects and enemy barriers. On one such trial, both had found Gwen could erect barriers as well. A stray spell during their training had taken the training rogue off-guard, a sudden barrier wrapping around her body and armour, bouncing the spell off her.

“So that’s a barrier and a ‘Fade Step’,” Gwen mused, walking a little way back from the group as they approached a village. Barghest whined, mirroring his mistress’ concern and pondering. “But how do I use it with my daggers like before?”

“Before?” jumping from the sudden enquiry, Gwen turn to find Morrigan beside her. Her brow quirked and inquisition in her eye.

“I…before I got the King back to Redcliffe, I had to defend him,” she explained, pondering whether to mention Hawke and her family. “I entered a state similar to the Fade step but it was as if the lyrium propelled me forward. And the blades of my daggers grew, these strange markings on them too,” pulling the same daggers, she showed how the daggers had nothing special or engraved on them. “I haven’t been able to replicate it,” Morrigan said nothing, her eyes studying the daggers before trailing to her tattoos peaking out of her collar.

“Perhaps tis easier found that you believe,” Morrigan mused, touching her hand. Lyrium shifted, affected by her own magic but seemed to shift at her will. Lyrium seeped from Gwen’s fingertips, lacing and threading through her daggers and making the same patterns as before. Barghest, spooked by the sudden change, barked and growled but made no move on Morrigan. But before her daggers take on the same light, Morrigan pulled away, the light fading and the symbols disappearing. Surprised and marvelling by the effect, Gwen wanted to know how Morrigan had done it, but the witch merely smiled and walked away.

Catching up to the group, wanting to probe Morrigan for how she caused the markings to appear, she froze at the sight of a battlefield. The small village was littered with bodies; men, women and even children. Some Darkspawn corpses dotted the village streets only for more living darkspawn to charge from cover.

“Watch your back!” Alistair’s cry scattered the group, each taking their enemy. Gwen, usually sticking close to another in the group, had been cut off for the others. She was forced to put her skills with her bow. Holding her arrows in hand, she tried to keep up with the charging darkspawn. Shifting out of sight, she re-established a better position on higher ground. Looking over the scattered crowd, she spotted a shriek shifting from view. Where there was one Shriek, there was always more. Before she could call out a warning, a Genlock caught her off guard, breaking her only bowstring and leaving her to resort to her daggers. Quick swipes to its throat and chest, the Genlock fell.

But now she was left with no time to warm them, no way of picking them off before they can attack. Her mind raced for a solution, but there was even no time for that.

Focus.

Pull it to your cheek.

Breath.

Gentle.

Her mind calmed, the same feeling she had months ago. Lyrium began to glow, rising through her armour to paint it blue. Opening her eyes, she could pinpoint each shriek, invisible or not, and gripped her daggers tight. Each were marked, her legs bent and taut, feeling like the string of her own bow was beneath her heels. One slow draw of breath and the pressure snapped.

“Look out!” Alistair turned, seeing Jocelyn pinned by a shriek as more began to appear. Sirius tried to bite and tear into his mistress’ attacker but found himself under attack, only aided by Barghest coming to help. Baldor and Cameron were held back to back, Leliana blocking blows as Sten was about to be overrun, Morrigan was thrown into Wynne, leaving many at the mercy of the Shrieks.

Suddenly, a bolt of blue sailed from the hill. Glints of steel and lyrium tickled his senses, watching as it shot to each Shriek, slowing for a moment as the blades swiped and cleaved through the darkspawn. Fading as the last Shriek fell, the form collapsed next to the corpse, Gwen appearing from the haze and gasping heavily.

“Lass!” Baldor sped to her side, Wynne beside him.

“What?” Alistair stared, unsure of what exactly when he had seen.

“It appears she’s answered her quandary,” Morrigan smirked, watching Gwen sit up and calmed her breathing, accepting a waterskin.

“Gwen, what did you do?” Wynne asked, rubbing her back as Gwen calmed.

“I…don’t know, but I wanted to stop the Shrieks, it was all I could think of and…” looking at her hand, staring at the lyrium pooling in her palm, “I guess the Lyrium reacted.”

“As it should,” Morrigan approached, “Tis the nature of Lyrium to form the will of whom controls it. You may be no mage, but any can be capable.” It made sense; mages or even templars had to consume lyrium to use its effects. For Gwen, the lyrium was already within her. All she had to do was will it strong enough for it to manifest. She couldn’t conjure spells as a mage could but perhaps she could manifest them in other ways. Helped to her feet, thanking Wynne and Baldor for their help, she finally took a moment to look around the village.

“Where is everyone?” everyone took a side to search. Despite the number of darkspawn here, there were only a few human corpses; far too few for a village of this size. Searching the square, Gwen paused at the sight of a strange statue. It was old, some cracks here and there but its most prominent feature where the cracked and whole crystals seemingly growing from it. Strange symbols from the arcane she had seen were carved into the statue, but for what purpose given the state the village was now in.

“This must be the Golem the merchant mentioned,” Jocelyn approached, inspecting the statue.

“So this must be Honnleath,” Cameron scanned the treeline, “The Horde seems to have left this portion of the south mostly intact.”

“Seems like they could’ve used that control rod,” Alistair sighed, looking at the dead. From her belt, Gwen pulled out the control rod she had from the merchant. Holding it as instructed, she raised it to the Golem. “Dulef gar.”

Everyone paused a moment, but nothing happened.

“Maybe the rod is broken,” Alistair mused, looking over Gwen’s shoulder.

“Or the command word is wrong,” Baldor huffed, “Stupid nug-licker had the wrong command word.”

“But maybe he was told the wrong one too,” Jocelyn mused, “And since the Golem is here and no doubt was owned by someone here, maybe there is a clue to activating it.” Most agreed with the idea of having a Golem on their side, while some kept their opinions to themselves. Gwen turned to Sten, hearing a low growl rumble from his throat. She knew the Qunari wasn’t happy whenever they became side-tracked from their main objective – ending the Blight.

“Oh Gwen,” pulled from her thoughts, Gwen turned to Leliana as she approached. “Your bow,” Gwen took the bow, thankfully it was only the bowstring that appeared broken. The Genlock’s blade had missed the body of the bow. “Here, I always keep a spare bowstring,” handing her the spare string, Leliana helped Gwen restring when a cry caught them off. Muffled behind a door, a cellar door, there turned a light of hope.

“Maybe someone did survive,” Wynne beamed, hope spurring the group to follow. Hoisting her bow onto her back, daggers in hand, Gwen followed.

“Remember Gwen,” Leliana placed a hand on her shoulders, turning her to the bardic Lay sister. “Keep your wrists loose, too tense and you could injure yourself,” Gwen nodded, thankful for the advice as the first howls of Darkspawn were heard deeper into the cellar. Both Barghest and Sirius charged first, protecting their mistresses as the others filed in.

Genlocks, Hurlocks, a few Shrieks and an Alpha scurrying around what appeared to be a brewery. Searching through the room once the Darkspawn were dealt with, Gwen spied a strange crystal cluster, taking it in her hand she could feel a strange warmth within. Turning to the others, she couldn’t help but giggle at seeing Baldor take what looked like Ale or Spirits.

Moving further in, more Darkspawn appeared. Surrounded by fallen book cases and furniture, the fight held in rather tight quarters. But the last of the Darkspawn fell, leaving them to press on. As she passed one last shelf, Gwen paused and noticed a strange book. It wasn’t in English or even runes. As she grabbed for it, Jocelyn’s war cry hurried her away, slipping the book into her pack.

The final room was aglow from a strange barrier, with the rest of the villagers hiding behind it. Darkspawn slashed and struck the barrier but made no progress in dispelling it before they arrived. Their Emissary had been the most difficult to strike down, shifting about to avoid danger and strengthening his brethren. The final blow came as Baldor swung his axe low, cleaving the Darkspawn from the knees down. Collapsed and sprawling, the dwarven exile struck true, cleaving its head in two.

“By the Maker! We’re saved!” a woman cheered, the others behind mirroring her joy. One approached in the crowd, standing before the barrier.

“You…weren’t sent by the Bann, were you? To save us?” he asked, watching as Alistair shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, we’re Grey Wardens and happened to pass by, what with all the Darkspawn around,” Alistair remarked, indicating to Jocelyn, Cameron and Baldor. “We also happened upon a Control rod for the Golem in the square, something that could help us against the Blight.”

“I suppose I should be grateful that someone came at all, thank you,” the man nodded, thought didn’t appear pleased. The man raised his hand, Gwen stiffened as the tell-tale sting of magic rushed over her lyrium as the barrier collapsed and allowed the villagers to leave. The man beckoned them past, leading to a small corridor. “That damnable golem brought us nothing but trouble. My mother sold the rod years ago, after it killed my father, and good riddance.” Now the man’s silence was explained.

“Killed your father? What do you mean?” Gwen asked, given she was the one now holding the rod.

“My father’s name was Wilhelm, mage to the arls of Redcliffe and a hero in the war against Orlais. And what did he get?” the man, revealed as the son of a Mage, twisted in anger and annoyance. “One day my mother found him outside the tower, with so many broken bones she could barely recognise him, and Shale standing over him just like it is now.” He shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye. “My father deserved better than that. But if you really want to wake Shale up…well, it’s yours now.”

“Surely there is more to that Golem than that?” Cameron mused, turning to look down the looming hallway before them.

“My mother never talked about it much. I was just a small child when my father died…” he paused, recalling a memory and became sullen from it. “Look, I know you probably have more important things on your mind but… I really need your help,” Gwen heard Sten growl and Morrigan scoffed. Cameron turned to roll his eyes, but the man almost dropped to his needs in pleading. “I know you already saved my life, and I am grateful, but my daughter, Amalia, is inside the laboratory!” pointing down the corridor, it certainly explained the faint tinges going on within. “She was afraid, and ran too far in before I could stop her. I don’t know how she made it past my father’s defences; one of the men tried to go after her…he was killed. But, you could find her, couldn’t you?”

The group seemed to ponder, all a little on edge and unsure of their next move. Alistair, Leliana, Wynne and Jocelyn wished to aid the child but given their situation they needed to keep moving on to Haven, with or without this Shale golem. Morrigan, Sten and Cameron could not care less. This entire interaction was a farce and waste of time and would gladly take the opportunity to move on. Baldor and seemingly neutral on the matter but leant to against helping. It was one last thing to worry about.

“I’ll go,” Gwen spoke up, stepping forward. Her actions stunned the group.

“You will? Oh thank the Maker!” the man cheered, pointing Gwen down the corridor. “My father’s laboratory is just past the next area, I think. She has to be there!”

“Gwen, are you sure?” Alistair took her shoulder, turning her back. “We… don’t know if she’s still there.”

“But we have to try,” she nodded, looking to the others. “It’s my doing that we’re here. I wanted to reactivate the Golem, so I’ll see this through.”

“Not alone you won’t,” Baldor huffed, gripping his axe.

“But there might be more Darkspawn lurking around, and… you’re all Wardens,” Indicating to her warden friends, they paused. “And call it… something I need to do, if not for the girl but for me,” she nodded.

“It’s one thing to find your own path, Guinevere,” Wynne approached, taking her hand, “It is another to fling yourself into a pit of snakes.”

“I know,” she nodded, looking over them. “But these people need you more, they need healers and protectors. Besides, I could get in and out before the traps detect me,” hinting to her shifting ability. “I could get the little girl out without anything seeing.”

“ _Pashera_! Just let her go,” Sten hissed. “Even a knat would know when to use an advantage.”

Barghest growled at the Qunari, not liking how he spoke to his mistress but whimpered at her side. He refused to leave her side, no matter what. And as much as she wanted to make him stay, she knew she couldn’t.

On the condition that they would come after her if she didn’t return in 15 minutes, Gwen shifted and sped into the corridor. Barghest kept close, surprisingly not drawing attention to himself. Minor shades and Dust wraiths littered the halls but were easily taken care of with a well-placed dagger and manifesting a strong enough force to banish them. She could only make it work on one of them, the others fell to her blade. Passing a large cavern carved into the stone, she finally found the last room.

“Wait,” Gwen stopped Barghest, feeling the tingle of magic and something else. A stinging itch started growing as she approached the barrier. Peering within, she could see a young girl and what appeared to be a cat. She was talking to it and seemingly getting a response. Passing the barrier, feeling it brush against her like passing through water, the full twist of pain ripped through her. There was a demon here, and no doubt it was trapped by the barrier. It was the only explanation for the sudden shift from stings to pain.

“Oh look! Someone’s come to play,” Amalia smiled, standing beside the cat. “You have come to play, haven’t you? We’re playing a guessing game. It’s better with more people.”

“I’m afraid not,” Gwen quickly slipped another Embrium petal into her mouth, chewing to dull the pain as she spoke. “My name is Gwen, I’m glad your safe, your father was so worried.”

“Father?” she asked, as if recalling something she had forgotten. “Oh! You can tell him I’m fine. Maybe he’ll come and stay with us too,” she beamed, picking up the small cat. “Anyway, you should go if you’re not going to play. Kitty finds you distracting.”

“She finds me distracting?” Gwen knew something was up with that Tabby. Its eyes held something sinister.

“Kitty is clever,” Amalia beamed, petting her head and scratching her chin. “She says you’ll take me back to my father, but I’m not going. She would be lonely.”

“You are so kind, Amalia. I would miss you dearly if you left,” the cat purred, a sinister drawl rolling behind her words. This cat was possessed, and by the strength of pain her lyrium was making, it had to be a powerful demon.

“You’re not truly a cat, are you,” Gwen steeled herself, knowing this battle was going to be hard fought if the demon chose to attack. Especially when she was on her own.

“Of course, she’s a cat! She just talks, that’s all,” Amalia defended, readjusting her grip.

“Talking is simple enough, once you know how,” the cat purred, eyeing Gwen hauntingly.

“Amalia, you should really get back to your father, he’s very worried,” Gwen cooed, hoping to convince the girl to come.

“You’re no fun, and I’m not leaving Kitty here alone,” she huffed, resuming her gentle pets.

“Nothing you say will convince Amalia to go with you,” the cat chuckled, amused by her efforts. “She loves only me now. I am her friend, while you are just a stranger,” Barghest growled, not liking the feline either, but stayed his ground when Amalia drew back.

“I suppose it’s because of the barrier you can’t leave?” Gwen asked, watching the cat closely.

“Indeed, it renders me powerless, the mage made sure of that,” it must’ve been referring to Wilhelm. “I cannot leave this chamber. No, Amalia found me. After decades of isolation, her company is…welcome,” the cat purred, rubbing against Amalia’s chin. “However now, it seems we are at an impasse, so let me propose a…compromise of sorts.” Gwen didn’t like where this was going, knowing full well this demon wanted to make a deal that may cost Amalia her life. “Release me, mortal, and let me have the girl. Let us return to her father and leave this place forever. You have the power to do so, I can practically taste it~” it cooed, emphasised by her licking her chops. But it did provide Gwen an opportunity. It was like back at the tower; the demoness with the bewitched templar. Only now had she realised how the Templar twitched as she ranted, maybe she could sever the connection. She wouldn’t allow this young girl to die with the demon.

“Okay…I promise to free you, and we can leave together,” Gwen formed her words carefully, looking directly at Amalia instead of the cat. After all she had dealt with these last few months, she knew demons twisted their words, but even they could be tricked.

“Thank you, you are very gracious,” the cat leapt from Amalia’s grip, turning to a strange set up on the ground, this provided her chance. “The mage’s wards hold me within this chamber, and only a mortal may approach them,” as the cat explained, Gwen approached a distracted Amalia. She held only one thought, ignoring the cat’s rambles: Free Amalia from the demon.

Gently, she placed a hand on Amalia’s shoulder, startling the girl. It was certainly a new feeling, the child’s mind was open to her, the slight tingling revealing she was a mage like her father. But it was shrouded in a veil, no doubt the demon’s trickery. As she tugged the veil remained strong but must like a frayed corner, Amalia twitched.

“Your father is so worried,” Gwen cooed, taking hold of the weakened veil. “And you are so bright, you must see this is hurting him.”

“I…but Kitty…” her mind was wavering, something breaking through. The veil frayed more, coming apart.

“I know your scared, but you’ve been so brave and strong. Just like your grandfather.”

“Grand…pa…” she was pushing through! Gwen could feel her mind calling out.

“He was a good man, your father loved him too. He would be more sad if you don’t come back,” Gwen felt the veil tighten, the demoness must’ve felt something.

“Betrayal! You will not take the girl!” turning, the cat hissed and reared up. “She is mine!” it was just the tug Gwen needed. With the demon enraged, the veil came loose. Tearing it asunder, Gwen pulled Amalia behind her.

“I made no promise to you, demon!” Pulling out her dagger, she kept herself between Amalia and the cat, “I made that promise to Amalia.”

“Kitty! You’re scaring me!” Amalia cried, seeing the truth. “I won’t let you inside me! I won’t!” Amalia clung to Gwen’s side, guarded by Barghest at her flank.

The cat growled and shifted, a bright light forming the demon before them. A Desire demoness, as Gwen thought. She had prayed on Amalia’s desire for a companion, playing the child to her whims. If there was one thing she had come to hate more, was the manipulation of someone’s emotions and feelings. This demon wasn’t going to take her.

“Barghest! Get Amalia back to her father! Now!” the Mabari obeyed, urging the girl back to the door. Amalia grabbed his scruff, being pulled away as the demoness growled.

“Fine. Then I shall take pleasure in taking you!” the demon lunged, Gwen sidestepped to dodge but missed her speed. The demoness used her tail to trip her, sending her crashing to the ground. The demon took the chance, pinning Gwen down.

Pain roared through her, the demon’s touch awakening her lyrium and setting her aflame. Her cries echoed, summoning more demons. Anger and Sloth crawling from the shadows, all wanting a scrap of her, but the Desire demon shooed them offer, taking her time.

“An interesting mortal you are,” she purred, causing jolts of pain to shoot through her. “Possessed by the last Purity, and marked by another?” she chuckled, leaning in close. “I will steal the Purity from you, and make me place. I care little for _her_ desires, I demand repayment,” she placed a chaste kiss, but found herself reeling back. Prue manifested, pushing the demon away from Gwen, but faltered and knelt beside her. “Aha! Foolish spirit, you’ve spent too long in that human,” the former cat chuckled, stepping closer. “At this rate, you will be too weak to stop me from ripping you from her~ Leaving a nice little place for me to slip in.”

“ _Guinevere is so much stronger than you believe_ ,” Prue snapped, placing her hand on Gwen’s. “ _I will not leave her._ ”

“As if you have a choice,” she smirked, but paused as Gwen sat up. Panting and gasping, no amount of Embrium was going to dull this pain. She stood, Prue beside her, as she tightened her grip on Prue’s hand.

“There…is always a choice…” Gwen refused to be the lesser, refused to be some tool to someone else’s whims. If she had come to learn anything here, or from her past, she was done taking other people’s crap. “I don’t want Prue to go…but…” she turned to the spirit, hating the choice she would have to make. “If she wants to stay… who am I to deny,” interlacing their fingers, Prue smiled. Joy overflowed, and she embraced Gwen.

“Stop! What are you?!” the room erupted in light, the demons’ cries engulfed and silenced in a matter of seconds.

* * *

The villagers were tended to and the last of the Darkspawn killed.

Sirius pattered about before his ears stood straight, turning to the door Gwen ran through. His bark called his mistress, Jocelyn running from the other side of the room with her shield raised. The others followed, turning to the door as Barghest and Amalia came to a stop.

“Amalia!!” Mathias cried, running and claiming his daughter in his arms. The man sobbed, cradling his frightened child as Barghest turned back down the doorway.

“Where is Gwen?” Jocelyn asked, knowing full well the Mabari wouldn’t have left his mistress without being told to. He whimpered, becoming antsy as he waited by the door. “Something must’ve happened,” Alistair approached, catching on to Jocelyn as he followed her, Baldor and Wynne close behind. But their journey didn’t take them far as Gwen rounded a corner, her breath laboured, and her armour covered in dust and fluid.

“Lass!”

“Gwen!”

Coming to her side, Gwen almost collapsed as Baldor caught her. She was shaking, but didn’t seem scared.

“I’ve… really had it… with these demons…” she coughed, trying to push herself back up. Alistair stepped in, bringing her arm around his shoulders and walked her back to the others.

“Demons? There were demons down there?” Mathias asked, catching the tail of her statement.

“Your father trapped a powerful demon… Amalia found her and was bewitched…” Gwen sat on an offered chair, looking to the father and daughter. “I manage to break her hold, but she came after me.”

“Are you okay?” Cameron approached, Gwen twitched as his own magic joined Wynne’s. The elven mage seemed more adept in feeling out the possessed, seemingly searching as he healed the fight’s aftermath.

“I’m fine,” she nodded, not wanting to say more in front of Mathias and Amalia in case they took her ‘housing a spirit’ to mean she was possessed. “I managed to fight her back, your father’s work had weakened her enough for me to end it.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Mathias approached, throwing his arms around her. “Amalia’s safe because of you.”

“I’m sorry I ran away, Daddy,” Amalia cooed, hugging his side. “I was so scared.”

“It’s alright Butterfly. You’re safe now, the bad creatures are gone,” he held his daughter, hugging her close and picking her up. “The phrase to activate Shale is ‘Dulen Harn’, as promised. Thank you again, we owe you our lives,” with that, and a small wave from Amalia, the pair left with the remaining villagers out of the cellar. One final task and they could leave.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onward to Haven and up a mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient with me. I work full-time and with the recent weeks being hectic and other commitments, I've finally finished a chapter~!  
> I'm close to finishing another so I hope to post it in the coming days.

* * *

 

Back on the road, back on their journey to Haven, Alistair assured them they would reach the strange small village by tomorrow.

Gwen flipped through the strange book she had found in Wilhelm’s basement, marvelling the interesting and foreign language and symbols. She had asked Morrigan and Cameron what they might mean and both had no idea. She had showed Baldor too and was just as dumbfounded by the strange language. She had wanted to ask Sten but since her revealing truth, the Qunari Barasaad had been rather cold to her.

Alistair led everyone to an open area, still covered by a thick brush but allowed plenty of room for their camp. Just as they started setting up camp, a soft nicker came from the underbrush, a mule coming into view.

“Aha! Bodahn!” Baldor cried. Gwen looked up, seeing the older dwarf come into view. Another approached with him, much younger and even smaller. Slightly confused by the coming of this new dwarf as well as a large cart pulled behind them but the others seemed to have known them. “Welcome! How were your travels?”

“Turbulent if I am honest, Master Warden,” the dwarf smiled, shaking Baldor’s hand. “It is good to see you all again, my timely rescuers.” Alistair, Jocelyn and Cameron approached, all offering their greetings too. “I saw your camp and remembered the kind offer you made the last time we met. And is there anywhere safer for a poor merchant and his son to sleep? I think not.”

“Of course, Master Bodahn, we’d be happy to welcome you to camp,” Jocelyn nodded, petting the smaller dwarf’s head.

“Enchantment!” the young boy cried, clapping his hands together in glee.

“Indeed Sandal,” Bodahn smiled, “I perfectly willing to offer a fine discount for the inconvenience of our presence, how does that sound? Good?”

“Beyond generous,” Alistair nodded, welcoming the merchant. “You’re free to stay, just mind yourselves.”

“Not a problem at all, Master Warden, you won’t even think we’re here. But please, if there is anything you wish to ask from me, just say the word,” with the agreement made, the others left Bodahn to his small corner of the camp. This did, however, prove an opportunity for Gwen. She still needed to procure a new bowstring. Once Baldor moved aside with his new bottle of ale, Bodahn turned to her. “Greetings, my lady, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I am Bodahn Feddic, purveyor of goods both common and rare.”

“Hello Bodahn, I’m Gwen,” she smiled, accepting his hand in a firm shake. “I was hoping to see if you had any new bowstrings.”

“Of course! I have the best quality Dalish strings to do just the trick,” turning to his cart, Bodahn scrambled about as Qwen waited. Turning the younger dwarf with him, he seemed to be fascinated by her exposed tattoos.

“Pretty~” he cooed, reaching for her hand. Smiling, taken by the dwarven boy’s childlike smile, offered her hand. He took it, tracing the lyrium running beneath her skin. She managed to unlatch her gauntlet, pulling it away as he pushed up the sleeve and traced more of her tattoos. Unlike the sharp bite of a mage’s touch and the irritation of a non-magical touch, Sandel’s was surprisingly soft and cool; it was close to that of a Tranquil’s touch but it still seemed so different, better even.

“My my,” pulled from her thoughts, Gwen looked up to Bodahn staring at her. “I had thought it were your mage companions with Lyrium, but never have I seen it in such a manner,” self-conscious sprouted in her heart, Gwen gently pulled her hand from Sandel and pulled the sleeve back down. “My apologise, my lady,” Bodahn spluttered, coming up to his boy, “I meant no offence.”

“No no, it’s okay,” she waved, but held her hand behind her back. “It’s just…a touchy subject for me.” Barghest bounded over, realising his mistress had moved away from him near the fire but found Sandal more interested, yipping and licking the excited boy’s hand when he eagerly patted the energetic dog.

“Not a worry, my Lady, I shan’t breath a word on the matter. Instead, here is your bowstring,” with a bright smile, Bodahn presented the wire. Returning his kind gesture, Gwen paid her dues and turned to restring her bow when she recalled the book she found.

Pulling it from her pack, she had a flip through its contents as Barghest took his place beside her, not truly interested in the book as she was but he wished to snuggle close and pine for her ear scratched. The book was nothing she had seen before, with strange symbols and passages. While she was flipping the pages, keeping her Mabari placated with scratches, Sten stomped past to collect his serve of food when his eye caught the book. 

“Where did you get that?” He suddenly asked, catching Gwen unaware.

“B-back in Honnleath,” she replied, showing the Qunari the strange book. Practically snatching it from her hands, he seemed to lament the pages as he flipped through them. “I wasn’t sure what language it was, I’m guessing you do?”

“That’s a question, not a guess,” he huffed. Gwen turned away, disheartened by the comment but jumped as the larger Qunari sat next to her. “But you are correct, I can read it because it is written in Qunlat, the script of the Qun.”

“What does it say?” She asked in, shifting a little towards the book. Barghest noticed his mistress had moved away, ears perked to see she was talking with Sten. Not interested in the large being, Barghest remained where he was but whimpered from his lost master’s touch.

“Prayers mostly, to the fallen and dead,” Sten flipped through the pages, pausing to mumble word briefly. Gwen cause a few the Qunari had already taught her.

“I cannot understand you,” Sten suddenly spoke, turning Gwen’s attention back to him. “How in the expanse of this land were you able to find such a book? How a woman would want to fight,” Gwen remembered Sten mentioning the roles of members in the Qun and how women were mainly contributed equally to men but never in a soldier or fighting role.

“It’s not that I want to fight, Sten,” she admitted, looking down at her new restrung bow. “It’s that I have to, to protect myself. If someone were to hurt me, I’d want to defend myself,” Sten looked over, musing her omission. “I’ve been thrown into circumstances beyond my control, if I had the choice I would be somewhere else, doing something I enjoy or want to do.”

“There shouldn’t be a want, there is only what you are meant to be,” Sten murmured.

“Then…what would I be?” Sten grumbled and shook his head.

“How would I know? I am not a Tamasran, one thing I do know is you would not be a warrior,” but he paused, looking down at her bow. “But perhaps a hunter.”

“I doubt that,” she smiled, shaking her head. “The whole archery thing is a family tradition, everyone in my family learns it,” she looked up into the night sky, reminiscing of home the more she thought of the strange tradition. “Even back home, I could never figure out what I could be or what I was meant to do with my life.” Sten remained quiet a moment, staring down at the book before him.

“You are not quite as callow as I thought,” Sten mused, “That is…unexpected.” Before Gwen could respond, Sten closed the prayer book and handed it back to her.

“Keep it,” she smiled, though small she could see Sten pause. “Think of it as a piece of home, until we can find your sword.” He said nothing more, merely nodding and tucking the book under his arm.

The night remained the same; the few of the group who wanted to interact with each other exchanged tales and funny stories until the first watch took their posts. Barghest, however, saw it fit to sit in her lap despite their size difference. Instead he took to his head and forelegs on her lap while she began to drift off.

The scene shifted, dark starry skies turning into scattered auroras as the world fell into the Fade. Sitting up in the twilight field, Gwen turned to find Prue lying peacefully beside her.

“You’ve been quiet for a while,” she whispered, watching as Prue opened her eyes and turned to her.

“ _Our merging has proven rather tiring, I apologise_ ,” she nodded, “ _It has become harder for me to manifest beside you like before, as well as speak_.” Gwen could feel tears coming up, but Prue rolled over, reaching over to delicately wipe them away. _“This does not mean I am unable to help you. You’ve come so far since the Mage’s tower_.”

“Still…” Gwen hitched, taking calming breaths to stave off her tears. “I don’t like the idea of this… being the cause of you disappearing completely.” Prue’s hand cupped her cheek, turning her gaze to her.

“ _I don’t see this as something to mourn. In the time we have been together, I would never wish to leave_ ,” she smiled. “ _Spirits have joined mortals to guide and teach them, parting when the time was right. But here, between us, I could not find any reason to part with you. I want to be with you. I want to be a part of you._ ”

“Even if it means you disappear? Or worse, makes you…a demon?” Gwen didn’t want to think it, but it had to be said.

“ _That will not occur_ ,” Prue smiled, “ _I have no other desires, nor am I enraged nor weakened by sloth. I am content, complete. I want for nothing more than my place here. And your heart holds no grudges nor cruelty, I find it hard to believe anything within you could change me_.” Gwen stared at the pearl white spirit, raising her hand to grasp hers. Gwen wanted to hug the spirit but was pulled out of her dreaming from a hand shaking her shoulder. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she noticed it was Wynne.

“It’s your turn for watch, my dear,” she nodded, watching as Gwen sat up.

“Okay, you better get some sleep too,” her hand brushed Wynne’s and something she hadn’t noticed before leaped through the touch. A familiar feeling, one causing her to gasp. Wynne paused, thinking something was wrong but saw the recognition in Gwen’s eyes. “H-how long?”

“Since the tower,” Wynne made no attempt to dissuade nor deny but kept her voice hushed. Both knew the other couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked, Wynne nodded. “I won’t say anything, not until you’ve said.”

“Thank you,” a warm smile bloomed, Gwen standing and hugging the mage despite her own comfort. Despite being a familiar friend, any touch from any mage seemed to set her lyrium aflame. Leaving the aging mage to her rest, Gwen took a seat next to the dimming fire. Haven would come in the morning.

* * *

The large group came upon the small hilltop village, which appeared to have been abandoned save for the strange children playing near a graveyard. Gwen felt extremely unnerved by the strange nature of the village’s people.

“What are you doing in Haven?” A guard suddenly approached them, a scowl heavy as his rove over the group. “There is nothing for you here.”

“Oh don’t worry, we just want to look around,” Alistair pipped up, burning through with sarcasm to distract the guard no doubt.

“We do not appreciate lowlanders ‘looking about’ our home as though it were some sort of zoo,” sarcasm lost on the guard, causing Alistair to groan.

“We’re here searching for Brother Genitivi,” Jocelyn grumbled, standing up to the close-minded guard. His sneer turned to her, something Gwen wasn’t used to seeing.

“Who?” He asked, scoffing at Jocelyn, “Perhaps Revered Father Eirik will know of whom you speak. Unfortunately, he is ministering to the villagers at the moment, and cannot be disturbed.”

“Revered Father?” Gwen spoke up, the guard turning to her. “I-I thought the Chantry had Revered mothers?”

“Indeed, Gwen. I have never heard of this,” Leliana added.

“It has always been thus in Haven. We do not question tradition,” the guard answered.

“Very well, excuse us then,” Cameron muttered, moving the conversation along.

“You may trade for supplies at the shop if your wish. Then I suggest and your companions leave,” brushing them off, the guard turned back to his post as the group was allowed through.

“Did it just get a lot colder? Or is it just me?” Alistair led the group off to the side, keeping to themselves until they had a plan.

“Something is going on here,” Cameron mused, turning to the group.

“The squishy elf is right,” Shale grumbled, looking over the dead village.

“We need to get to this Revered Father,” upset by the idea of someone defaming the Chantry ideals, Leliana pushed her lot in. “If he truly knows where Brother Genetivi is, we must find him.”

“But something just isn’t right here, we will need to neutralise any threat before moving forward, saving us the worry of an ambush,” Jocelyn added, discreetly watching the villagers watching them.

“Then I say we break up, split off into teams and investigate this village and find clues of the Brother’s presence,” Cameron added, leaning on his stave.

Agreeing with the plan, Gwen moved with Baldor, Sten, Morrigan and Cameron while Jocelyn, Alistair, Shale, Wynne and Leliana headed to one of the homes. Their hounds following close behind their mistresses, they growled at their surrounded, leaving their discomfort plain to see.

“Easy Barghest,” Gwen cooed, scratching the Mabari’s ears to calm him, but it did little to calm her.

Heading into the store, Baldor moved straight to the shopkeeper while the others looked around. Gwen moved to a side table with small trinkets and smaller weapons. Gwen found a fancy pair of boots among some junk but something around a corner caught her eye. A trail, only faintly discolouring the wooden floors, leading to a small side area beside the counter.

“Hey! Don’t go back there!” The shopkeeper snapped, too late to stop her from finding the rotting Knight lying in his own blood. Caught off from the unexpected sight, Gwen screamed and recoiled, fast enough to miss the shopkeepers sword.

With this action, Barghest barked and leapt to his mistress’ aid, leaving the shopkeeper dead. Baldor helped Gwen while Morrigan and Cameron inspected the body.

“This knight has been here for some time,” Cameron mused, rummaging through his packs and pouches. “By his regalia and these letters, he is a Knight of Redcliffe.”

“‘Tis proof the Brother we seek may be here,” Morrigan drawled, but a ruckus outside pulled them from their discovery and back out into the village.

As if someone had thrown a light switch, the Haven villagers flew into a frenzy and charged. It took them off guard as they swung about; Baldor easily sidestepped a woman before brandishing his war axe, cleaving through her legs before severing her back. Morrigan and Cameron threw spells and curses to slow and disorient as Sten took the charge. Gwen managed to dodge and counter with her daggers, Jocelyn’s words guiding her slashes as she aimed for arms and legs, disarming and putting villagers down before the next attacked.

Looking across the field, Gwen caught Alistair and the others surrounded and soon to be overwhelmed but the approaching villagers from the hill overhead. Was she the only one to see the approaching force? Everyone were too focused on their forward assaults they didn’t see them coming.

Pushing down another farmer, she sheathed her daggers and drew her bow. But before she could reach for an arrow, a villager caught her off, wrenching her quiver from her back. Taking a swing with her bow to bash the attacker back, it left her with no arrows. In the scuffle, her arrows were scattered and broken underfoot.

What could she do now? Calling over the crowd wouldn’t reach them in time and the horde of villagers were closing in. Then an idea bloomed in her moment of panic. Something Morrigan had said before, and what she had shown her. If the Lyrium within her responded to her will, maybe she could make the same blades on her daggers into an arrow for her bow!

“Worth a shot,” she sighed, taking her bow and took aim. “Barghest, keep them back!” Barking to her call, Barghest stood proudly and fiercely before his mistress, keeping all back from her plan.

Taking a breath, calming her mind and visualising her will. Her world slowed, the charging villagers coming to a near stop as she pictured an arrow forming in her drawn bowstring. A gentle hand placed on hers, filling the calm within her mind. Lyrium grew from her bow, breaching out like crystals while an arrow took shape, but something seemed off. Before she could pick her target and release to form another arrow, a weight bumped her and threw her off guard. Her hand slipped, her bow shattered but the arrow flew. In mid-air, with a number of targets to choose from, Gwen’s last thought sent the arrow scattering.

Small glyphs appeared on each of the charging villagers, each one watching as a hail of arrows shattered in the sky and flew straight toward them. Just as the group fought off their attackers did they turn to see Gwen’s attack land in a rain of lyrium onto the villagers. Gwen could feel her stomach fall; despite all she had suffered and all she had fought, watching someone die at her hands made her feel sick, but watching so many die all at once by her doing, she felt like she was going to be sick.

“What in the Maker’s name was that?” Alistair gaped.

“Gwen, are you okay?” Wynne asked, coming to her side.

“I…I didn’t mean for…” Gwen gagged, looking over the piles of bodies by the hill.

“‘Tis plain to see that it was,” Morrigan mused, standing before her. “Recall my words? Lyrium is shaped by will, and you it seems to have wished for our incoming attackers to stop.” Looking at her now broken bow, she picked up the splintered and broken excuse of a bow. “Your weapon, however, did not survive the encounter.”

“A useful skill but it seems only with the right tool will make it efficient,” Leliana helped Gwen to her feet, taking note of her broken bow too. “We shall find a new bow for you after we find the urn.”

“Okay, I hope it won’t make me too great a burden,” Gwen had muttered the last part to herself, trailing behind the others but didn’t expect a small smack from Baldor, walking beside her.

“Enough of that talk, Lass,” Baldor smirked, shooting her a wink. “You’re just as strong as anyone here.” Gwen couldn’t help but smile, following after Baldor to the top of the Hill. A large chapel sat alone among the thick trees and brush, another graveyard surrounding the building.

Entering the building, they stepped into the middle of a sermon. Speaking was, as the guard had said, was a Revered Father acting as a Revered Mother would have. Within were more villagers and cultist hanging on every word the Father spoke.

Stepping forth, the room turned silent as the Father noticed their presence, stepping before his children.

“Ah, Welcome,” he nodded, raising his hands, “I heard we had visitors wandering about the village. I trust you’re enjoyed your time in Haven so far?”

“You killed the Knights of Redcliffe!” Jocelyn snapped, stepped forward. “We saw the bodies, we’re past pretending this village is normal!”

“This, my brothers, is what happens when you let outsiders into the village. They have no respect for our privacy.”

“But you killed a Knight of Redcliffe,” Cameron rebutted, “Surely the idea someone would come seeking the Knight would find this village and his corpse. Privacy was hardly considered.”

“And just as was his fate, so shall you join him,” turning to the assembly, the Father raised his arms. “They will tell others of us, brothers, if we let them. Word will spread, and then what? They do not understand our ways. They would bring war to Haven, in their ignorance.”

“Enough of this!” Sten growled, taking a grip on his sword. “We are here to find the Brother, not to prattle with this fool.”

“Sten’s right,” Baldor rumbled, taking his own axe, “If it’s a war they be wanting, who are we to be denying?”

“No one needs to get hurt,” Gwen stepped forward, looking between them both. “Too much has been shed already, why continue? We only want to know where Brother Genetivi is, that is all.”

“They won’t get away with just that,” Leliana quipped, “What they have done here is an affront to the Maker, no amount of excuses could pardon such sins.”

“We don’t owe you any explanations to our actions. We have a sacred duty!” The crowd cheered with the Father, reaching out to anything they could use as weapons, “We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven.” As the order given, the Father and the cultists attacked, easily fended off by the skilled Wardens. The Father, as he ran past Gwen, burnt her as she past, revealing something they had not expected before.

“He’s a Mage!” Gwen cried over the battle, turning with her daggers raised. He would be a problem if he got a chance to fling spells around. Running forward, Gwen swung and parried the Father’s counters, never letting a chance to cast a spell to get through.

“Feel her Fury!” The Father blocked a blow, but raised his hand to conjure fire in his hands. It left Gwen open, wide open as the spell hurled towards her.

The spell exploded around her, feeling the heat brush by her but never touched her. Opening her eyes, she gaped at the intense glow of her tattoos and the shocked expression of the Father.

“Lass! End it!” Baldor’s voice shook her from her revere, pushing the staff aside to land a quick blow; slicing through his throat. The Father coughed and choked blood before falling dead before her. She knew she could erect a barrier around herself but she never used it in battle before. She didn’t feel a thing.

“Gwen, are you okay?” Wynne ran over, checking over her while Gwen recalled her senses.

“Y-yes, yes I’m fine,” she nodded, smiling to the aged mage. But as she moved away from the now dead cultist, something clattered from his robe pocket. Bending down, Gwen picked up a strange medallion. Pearl white and fastened with red cord, the pieces seemed to be able to move if manipulated; what could it be for?

“We need to search the place,” Jocelyn piped up over the group. “If there is any sign of Genetivi, it will be here.”

Breaking off to search the small alcoves and rooms, Gwen moved to a side room to search. She didn’t find much besides a few trinkets and a bar made of silver. Moving past Alistair and Cameron, back into the main foyer, she noticed a sealed doorway, blocked by bricks. It could hardly be part of the room since it appeared to have a door at once stage given the arch. Curious, pressing her hands to the wall only for it to slip by her fingers, shifting aside to reveal another room.

“Over here!” She cried, calling everyone back. But the moment they entered, they found a man lying on the ground injured. Leliana ran to his side in an instant, the others crowding in and taking up a corner of the room, in case more cultists stormed in.

“Who are you?” Genetivi asked, looking around the group as Leliana and Wynne approached, Gwen close behind. “They…they’ve sent you to finish it?”

“No, we have come to help you, Brother Genetivi,” Leliana pulled out an injury kit while Wynne set to work on healing his more serious wounds. Genetivi heaved a heavy sigh, a small smile brushing across his lips.

“You don’t know how glad I am to see someone who isn’t from this village. I…” a groan fell from him as Wynne tried to shift him. Gwen stepped in, supporting him as Leliana worked off his leather vest to check his back. Long whip marks blistered over his back. These cultists were brutal. “The le’s not doing so well and…and I can’t feel my foot.” Wynne turned to his injured leg while Leliana finished applying a patch over his wounds.

“I can set your leg and ease some of the pain, but you’ll need a lot of rest in order to heal properly,” emphasising her point, her magics weaved around the splint and cooled the pain but couldn’t reset the bone.

“I don’t have time to rest now,” Genetivi argued, getting Leliana and Gwen to help him stand. “I’m so close, the Urn is just up that mountain,” Barghest jumped over, holding up a long cane left discarded in the corner, Gwen took the offered cane and got the Brother to lean off his leg.

“We seek the Urn too,” Alistair turned to the brother, “Arl Eamon gets sicker by the day.”

“The Arl is sick? Will he live?” Genetivi asked, looking across the group.

“He was poisoned, instigated by one of Loghain’s men,” Jocelyn bit, glaring from recalling the hated truth behind the Arl’s ailment.

“Politics. Never did anyone any good,” Genetivi shook his head, sorrowful by the condition of the Arl. “The Arl is a noble soul. But the ashes…the ashes will surely cure him.” Turning to the large hallway behind them, Genetivi looked up the stairs. “Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is an old temple there, built to protect it. The door is always locked,” turning back to the group, a hopeful smile crossing his lips. “But I know what the key is.”

* * *

Using the medallion Gwen found on Eirik’s body. Given the complex nature of the door, the group allowed Brother Genetivi to follow them up the mountain. Sten and Alistair aided in the injured man until they reached the seal door.

Left behind in the ice-covered halls of the ancient temple ruins, remaining near the entrance in case more cultists were found ahead, the group pushed on.

Working through the winding hall ways, discovering the lost knowledge found within the ruins, moving onto a large cave network. The network was swarming with dragonlings; baby juvenile dragons! Gwen couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Seeing Flemeth as a dragon was one thing but seeing real living dragons was something else; something frightening.

Gwen panted, coughing as her heart rumbled against her chest. She had used her fade step and daggers to spam and sweep charging cultists and converging dragonlings through the tunnels. Their last target, a large drake, had been a challenge after pinning Sten and Shale down, swiping Wynne and Cameron aside, breathing fire to keep the others at bay.

“Are you okay, lass?” Baldor helped her to a stone, offering a flask. Taking it for a quick swig, spluttering from the sudden taste of Dwarven ale. “Perfect brew to restore your strength.” Sighing, she took another quick draw and, much to her surprise, she did feel perked up.

“What are the differences between these things?” Gwen sighed, catching her breath as the group came back together. The last few rooms had been breeding pens and feeding areas for all the dragonlings, leaving their current position within a room of drakes.

“Dragonlings are babies, while the drakes are adult dragons,” Alistair answered, wiping his blade clean.

“Males, you mean,” Morrigan huffed, turning to Gwen. “Only the males grow to such, ‘tis the females that grow further.”

“It’s said full grown High Dragons are giants, savage and untamed,” Leliana added, “But I’ve never heard of such a beast to reside in Fereldan.”

“Certainly better than birds, though they do squish as easily as those winged vermin,” Shale chirped, stepping on a dead drake’s head, much to Gwen’s dismay. She didn’t comment, leaving Flemeth’s secret but missed the look Morrigan gave her, standing to follow Jocelyn’s lead out of the room. Before leaving, however, Gwen watched as Baldor drew a dagger on the dead Drakes.

“Baldor?” Curious, she watched in a mix of horror and confusion as the Dwarven noble skinned the hide of the Drakes, gathering up the hardened scales while gathering up the flesh tough hide from their bellies.

“Drake and dragon scales are precious resources, any good smith will pay out the backside to get their hands on them,” carving more hardened scales, he offered a bloodied bag to Gwen. “Perhaps even make ya a better set of leathers, or weapons.” Nodding to her daggers, it was only now she had noticed the chips starting to form. “I’ll show you a keen way to keep them sharp till we can get ya some more.”

Left with the bloodied bag in hand, Gwen pondered the idea of having armour or weapons made from dragons. Wrapping the bag in another wad of cloth before storing them in her pack, running after the others deeper into the caves.

More cultists and another drake drew them to a larger, overseer room. Scavenging the corpses was something Gwen never thought she would do, claiming a few injury kits and that strange healing potion Wynne had shown her. Before they moved to the next cave, she found a strange glowing sword on one of the overseers. The sword seemed to echo and coo, ringing more when she held it. Seeing no reason to leave it, she carried the spare weapon.

Defeating the last of the Drakes brought them back into a connecting temple ruin, feeling the winds growing colder the higher they rose. The air thinned and showed how high they had climbed despite the confusion in the caves. Gathering the last of the drake scales, Gwen followed on into what was hopefully the last chamber to the summit.

“Stop!” The sudden order rolled cultists from hiding, one brandishing a large axe approaching the group. “You will go no further!”

“Argh, more cultists,” Baldor growled.

“These fleshy interlopers are becoming quite bothersome. Shall we crush them?” Shale drawled, sounding more bored than annoyed.

“For once the lumbering rock pile makes sense,” Sten hissed, reaching for his sword while eyeing the guarding cult mages.

“Indeed, be done with these pests and more on,” Morrigan seconded, bringing her own magic to point.

“You have defiled our temple. You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young,” Gwen stayed back, unsure and unnerved by the cultists. “No more. You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this? Why have you come here?!” Coming to Alistair and Jocelyn, both raised their shields and held their blades true, not going unnoticed by the archers standing nearby.

“We’ve come for the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” Alistair barked back, standing firm.

“We seek the urn to heal the Arl of Redcliffe, stricken ill and growing more each day. You attacked us and killed knights of his court, surely you knew more would come to avenge them?”

“You done all this for an ancient relic?” The leader scoffed, looking over the group. “Know this, strangers; the Prophetess Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now. What hope do you have?”

During the ruckus, Gwen noticed none of the cultists were looking her way. An idea caught her mind, though how she was going to pull it off was another thing entirely. She could phase shift and move to one of the archers, take a bow and try to use that strange seeker arrow again, but the very thought of the move caused her to feel fatigue. She would just have to use her daggers and Fade Shift one more time.

Focusing, she tried to picture herself fading away, shifting from view just like back in Ostegar. Recalling all the times she would practice the skill to slip away from the mages for a moments reprieve.

“What? You can’t…” Leliana scoffed, disbelieving everything this man just said.

“Impossible, our Lady Andraste is dead,” Jocelyn rebutted, only to be scoffed and growled at the cultists. Baldor took a moment to spot the archers and how many other cultists were in the chamber but found only one missing. Seeing Gwen had disappeared from the group, he searched the room for her. A shimmer of blue caught his keen eyes, missed by the other humans in the cult. Gwen had easily slipped away from the cultists to higher ground. He noticed her daggers unsheathed and ready.

“You know NOTHING!” The leader shouted, echoing in the cave. “Andraste revealed Herself to us! We are Her chosen!”

This was it, Baldor could feel the battle about to start. He nudged Sten, pointing to Gwen’s position before nudging Jocelyn and Cameron, the only others closest to him. They both saw Gwen and readied their weapons.

“To arms, my brethren! Andraste will grant us~!” His shout fell short, a blue flurry shooting around the room, daggers elongated and sharp, cleaving through the archers ready to open fire. It left the ground open for the others; swords, shields, axes, bows and spells at the ready. The remaining cultists tried to regroup but managing to snag an intact bow and a few arrows, a depleted Gwen turned to her skills with a bow to pick off stragglers.

As the leader fell, his head cleaved from his shoulders, the only sound left in the chamber was a loud retching. Gwen heaved behind a rock, overwhelmed by everything they had done, everyone they had killed. How? How did they make it look so easy? Did they really not care they had just killed someone? Dozens of people?

“Death ‘tis not an easy reality to face,” a soft hand and a gentle rub of her back turned Gwen, surprised to find it was Morrigan beside her, rather than Wynne or Baldor. “But one must do what is necessary to survive. Would you protect those you care for? Even at a bloody cost?” Gwen was left stunned, leaving her something to ponder as Morrigan offered her water skin. A mixture of herbs tinted the water, helping with the nausea still swelling in her stomach.

“Come, our goal awaits,” taking her offered hand, Morrigan and Gwen returned to the group. Left to her own devices, Morrigan moved ahead as Gwen took her usual place behind the group.

“Lass?” Baldor asked, but paused as she shook her head.

“I…I’m fine, Baldor,” she nodded, shooting him a small smile.

“We’ll talk later then,” he nodded, knowing not to pry. She accepted it, thought didn’t like the idea of talking about any of this. Everything going on was far too important to have to worry about her little insecurities.


End file.
